


Typical Girls

by Nokomis



Category: Bandom, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crossdressing, Ensemble Cast, F/M, High School AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 66,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gerard realizes that he’ll never get with Lyn-Z after his friends let him know she’s into girls, there’s only one possible course of action: dress in drag and join her punk rock Dolly Parton cover band in hopes of wooing her. High school AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to thesamefire and perspexsea for looking over this, way back when. <3 Originally posted on LJ in April '09.

"Gerard. Gerard. Seriously, stop staring at her. It's creepy." When Gerard didn't immediately look away Frank threw his apple core at him. Gerard flailed, attempting to bat the apple core away, but only succeeded in bouncing it back off his chest after it had hit him in the chin.

"I wasn't staring!" Gerard protested weakly. Across the cafeteria, Lyn-Z - she even signed her test papers like that, she was so fucking awesome - waved her hands in the air and made a snarling face at her friends.

"We're going to have to buy you a newspaper with eyeholes cut out of it soon," Frank replied. He glared at the others at the table. "Bob, tell Gerard he's a giant creeper."

"Gerard, you're a giant creeper," Bob recited faithfully. "And also she's never going to go for you."

"She might!" Gerard said. Now Lyn-Z was taking a sip of her water while her lanky friend - Jimmy Euringer, though everyone called him Jimmy Urine after he'd drank his own pee on a dare in the seventh grade - reached over and poked her in the side. 

"Have you ever even talked to her?" Mikey asked, looking up from his texting frenzy.

"I, uh. I asked to borrow her chartreuse paint two weeks ago!" Gerard said triumphantly, focusing on his table instead of the one he wished he was at.

There was a pause.

"Dude, you sit _right next to her_ in like three classes," Ray said. He picked up a broccoli floret and nibbled at it. 

"Classes aren't the right time, okay?" Gerard replied petulantly.

"Besides, it doesn't even matter because it's not like she goes for dudes anyway," Frank said.

"I don't think anyone will ever accuse Gerard of being a dude," Bob offered.

Gerard stared at Frank in horror. "What do you mean?"

Everyone else in turn stared at Gerard.

"Dude, she’s got like four Bikini Kill pins on her backpack," Frank pointed out.

"Remember when she shaved her head?" Bob asked.

"I heard she had a thing with Amanda Palmer," Ray offered.

"What," Gerard said, horrified expression unchanged. "How come none of you have ever mentioned this before?"

"We thought you knew," Bob said with a shrug.

"Is there anything else about Lyn-Z you have neglected to mention to me?" Gerard gritted out. His friends were the _worst friends in the universe_ , god, he was going to dump them all and find new ones. He could totally find new ones. That freshman hippie who used to paint his face with birds as rebellion against the school uniform would totally be his friend.

"She's starting a punk rock Dolly Parton cover band," Mikey offered. "With Alicia."

"Super.” Gerard banged his head against the table, only just resisting the urge to clamp his hands over his ears to fend off any other unwelcome revelations his friends had been _hiding_ from him.

*

After lunch Gerard sat through an agonizing history class and then started the death march to the art room. He remembered fondly when he'd looked forward to classes with Lyn-Z, when he'd get to soak up her awesome through osmosis and watch her roll her eyes at the cheerleaders chattering in the middle of the room and doodle little zombie wars in the margins of her notes.

And art class was the best of the three classes they shared, because they sat at big tables instead of desks and sometimes Lyn-Z would bump into his table on her way to the sink or the supply cabinet, and he'd imagine that one day she bumped into _him_ instead of the table and fell into his lap and he'd say something cool and suave, like Ash would say to an S-Mart customer, and she'd grin up at him and wrap her arms around his neck and say something just as awesome and suave back, and then they'd kiss and there'd be fireworks and flowers raining from the ceiling while a unicorn trotted by with a banner that read "Gerard and Lyn-Z 4-eva!" 

Only now, Gerard thought despairingly, that would never happen, because Lyn-Z would fall in his lap and then shriek and say, "Boy parts! Eww!" and hop on the back of the unicorn and gallop away, ripping the banner off to land sadly on his head while she rescued a princess and made out with the royal bitch.

He slumped down in his chair at his table and sullenly flipped open his sketch pad to a blank page.

"Stupid dick," he muttered.

"Hey!" Dewees indignantly piped up from the other side of the table

"Not you," Gerard said quickly. He didn't want to talk, so he hunched over the sketchbook and started drawing the next series of events he'd planned in his comic, about the vampire and the raven going on a road trip together, and tried very hard to not notice Lyn-Z strolling in the room, or Lyn-Z's uniform skirt brushing against the side of his table, or the fact that when she sat down at her table a few feet away her skirt scrunched up around her thighs to an almost obscene degree.

Vampires, Gerard thought, trying to keep his eyes glued to his sketchbook. Nothing sexy about vampires.

He cut his eyes over to Lyn-Z. She had taken out her own sketchbook, and when she leaned over to dig a pencil out of her bag he could see her collarbone through the neck of her white shirt.

He purposefully stared back at his drawing, adding a kerchief in the vampire's pocket. He wasn't thinking about the way Lyn-Z's vest fit or her knee socks or that stretch of thigh and glimpse of collarbone. He was thinking about vampires, dammit.

He was thinking so hard about vampires that he almost didn't overhear Steve and Lyn-Z's whispered conversation five minutes later.

"Hey, you coming over to watch _Spiderman and Friends_ with us tonight?" Steve asked her.

"Nah, I'm spending the night with Kitty," Lyn-Z replied.

"Oh, I see how it is. Have fun with your _girl's night_ ," Steve replied.

"You know you're jealous of our love," Lyn-Z replied, throwing an oil pastel at him.

Gerard carefully added a cat-shaped road kill to the last panel, where the vampire and the raven drove down the moonlit highway. Fuck it all, his friends were right.

He was just going to have to forget about her.

*

"Still trying to forget about Lyn-Z?" Frank asked, biting his Twizzler in two and sticking the halves under his top lip like tusks. "Cuz that zombie's pigtails says you're failing."

Gerard flipped his sketchbook over and scowled. He was sitting on the floor of his bedroom between mounds of unwashed laundry, leaning against his closet door, while Frank sat on his bed playing with his candy and occasionally giving his math book a dirty glare.

"I can't believe none of you thought it was important to tell me that the girl of my _dreams_ would in no way be interested in me," Gerard said. 

Frank shrugged. "Dude, it's not like you were ever going to _say a single word_ to her. We didn't want to shatter your fantasy life, since that's pretty much the only thing you've got going for you. Besides, it's not like it isn't completely fucking obvious."

"Stereotypes," Gerard said, but who the fuck was he kidding, the evidence was pretty compelling. He reached around and dug last year's yearbook out of his closet and started flipping through the pages.

"What, are you going to cut out her picture and make a shrine to the love that totally forgot to speak its name to you?" Frank was totally laughing at him, the fucker.

"No," Gerard said, finally locating Kitty in the marching band pictures. She was grinning wide, had a bunch of anime-inspired pigtails sprouting out under her marching band hat and had geometric pink eyeshadow. She was, in summary, way cooler than Gerard, who could be found hunched in the bottom corner of the art club picture, scowling and wearing his favorite Madonna t-shirt.

He held the picture of Kitty up beside his face. "She's way prettier than me, isn't she?"

Frank surveyed both Gerard and Kitty. "Well, right now, yeah, but I think if you fixed yourself up a bit you'd be in the running."

"Not funny," Gerard grumbled, dropping the yearbook on his lap. 

Frank snickered. "No, really, you're totally a pretty lady, Gee. Very hot in a dress. And pigtails, can't forget the pigtails."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll show up in a dress and Lyn-Z will fall head over heels in love with me," Gerard said, rolling his eyes.

He stared back down at the yearbook.

"...Mikey said she was starting a band, right?" Gerard said. He was thinking crazy thoughts, he knew, but every time he thought of going through the rest of the school year without talking to Lyn-Z or getting her to smile at him like she did to her friends or getting to hold her hand or anything else, his stomach took a dive and he thought he might have to spend the rest of his life hidden under his laundry heap because there was no point in leaving his basement.

"Yeah, a girl punk cover band," Frank said. "Gee. Seriously, you've read too many comic books. There's no way what you're thinking will work."

"All Clark Kent needed for a new identity was a fucking pair of glasses," Gerard said. "If I've got tits and enough makeup... It's not like she even knows that Gerard Way even fucking exists."

Frank blinked. "This is not going to end well. Even if she likes you as a girl, it's not like you're going to be able to keep everything under wraps. _Especially_ if she likes you."

Gerard waved his hand airily. "I'll worry about that later. Wanna help me go steal some of Ma's stuff to try this out?"

Frank looked down at his math book and then at Gerard. "Fuckin' A, there’s no way that shit won’t be hilarious."

Gerard threw a pair of boxers that probably hadn't seen a washer in two or three wears at Frank's face, and laughed at the face Frank made after he batted them away from his face, and then they went upstairs.

Gerard headed straight for his mother's makeup bag while Frank obnoxiously made himself comfortable peeking into drawers. Gerard dug out a handful of things that looked promising. He opened the tube of lipstick and leaned towards the mirror, experimentally dabbing some on, exaggeratedly pursing his lips. It looked strangely bright but not, he thought, entirely _bad_. Kind of awesome, really, even if the taste wasn't nearly as nice as chapstick. He made a face and then tried to rub the waxy color off his front tooth. 

"What do you think?" he asked.

He turned around to find Frank elbow deep in his mother's underwear drawer, a leopard print bra hanging off one arm and a matching thong looped over his ear.

"Oh my god," Gerard said, horror-struck.

"Dude, your mom's a _freak_ ," Frank said gleefully.

"Oh my god," Gerard repeated. 

"Do you like red or black lace better?" Frank said, holding up two additional bits of lace Gerard refused to identify.

"I am not wearing my mother's underwear," Gerard said.

The door swung open and Mikey stuck his head in, saying, "Hey, have you seen my... Oh my god."

"Hey Mikey, do you think Gerard would look better in red or black?" Frank asked.

"I'm not wearing that," Gerard said. "That's sick."

"Are you wearing Ma's lipstick?" Mikey asked, squinting at Gerard. 

"That is beside the point," Gerard said primly. "Frank is pawing through our mother's unmentionables."

"Gerard's decided to be a girl," Frank said helpfully. "So that he can have a torrid lesbian affair with the love of his life."

"That's not... I mean, okay, that's the plan, but it's not as bad as it sounds," Gerard said.

Mikey stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. "But... seriously, it doesn't matter how much you aren't packing, she's still gonna notice."

Gerard glared at his brother. "I am packing plenty, okay, and it doesn't matter, because if she likes me for me then it won't matter what the plumbing looks like."

Mikey and Frank both snorted. 

"I hate you both," Gerard said, pouting.

Frank tilted his head. "Hey, you really are pretty!"

Mikey looked too. "Huh." 

Mikey went to their mother's closet, dug out a few articles of clothing and said, "Come on, let's see if this is going to work."

Twenty minutes later Gerard was standing in the middle of his bedroom wearing a short black skirt and his mother's leopard print bra while Mikey and Frank stuffed various things in the cups trying to achieve the most breast-like shape.

"Dude, seriously, fruit is not going to work," Frank said, raising an eyebrow at the moldering peach Mikey had dug out of the dusty fruit bowl in the kitchen. 

"You're the one who suggested baggies of jello, asshole, it's not like you're full of brilliant suggestions."

"I'm going to be, like, playing and doing stuff," Gerard said, eyeing the crooked lumps on his chest. "I don't want my fake tits to fall out in the middle of whatever I'm doing."

"I could call Alicia," Mikey said.

"No!" Gerard said. "I don't want her to know about this."

"She could totally be your in, though," Mikey pointed out.

"But she would let it slip!" Gerard said. "We're sticking to the plan. I bought some DVDs from you and mentioned I was wanting to be in a band, and you're going to mention it to Alicia. Very casually."

"You know that you suck at guitar, right?" Frank pointed out. Again.

"It's a fucking punk band, I only need to be able to make noise," Gerard grumbled. 

Frank gave his handiwork on Gerard's boob more consideration and then said, "Okay, I'll call Jamia."

*

The next morning of classes passed by in a blur. Lyn-Z was wearing her red headband, the one that always made Gerard want to draw her as Robin and then add himself in the shadows as her Tim Drake, recording her every movement and in awe of her vitality.

Okay, he might have already drawn a half-dozen variations on that theme, and the one where she was the Catwoman to his Batman, and the Wonder Woman to his random-dude-with-rope. He was totally going to have to burn that sketchbook just in case Frank found it and plastered photocopies of it around the school. 

At lunch he sat down at his table and prodded at his soggy fries, and then realized that Bob and Ray were both staring at him speculatively.

"What?" he said, shoving his hair behind his ear.

"We're trying to see if Frank's gone crazy with all this 'Gerard is totally a hottie!' talk," Ray replied.

Gerard glared at Frank, who whistled in faux innocence. "You told them?"

"You spent most of last night in lipstick and a skirt! How could I keep that shit to myself?" Frank replied. "But seriously. I'd hit that."

"I'd hit _you_ ," Gerard replied. "And thanks."

"I dunno," Bob said. "I think I need to see the full ensemble before deciding."

Ray put his head down on the table as he cracked up, shoulders shaking and hair bouncing. Gerard vindictively stuck the soggiest french fry in his hair, deep where it probably wouldn't work its way back out til halfway through the next class.

"Don't laugh too hard, Ray, you've got to help me make sure Gee here doesn't flub her audition," Frank said, draping his arm over Gerard's shoulder and kissing his cheek. Gerard elbowed Frank in the side.

Ray peeked up through his hair and said, "As long as I get to take pictures, I'm in."

"Dude, this is going to fucking _haunt_ you," Mikey said, grinning.

"Shut it, chipmunk face," Gerard replied, and peeked at Lyn-Z's table. She was sitting on top of it while Jimmy appeared to be miming a sword fight with a wheeled chair, and when she glanced in his direction Gerard ducked his head down on Frank's shoulder and muttered, "Oh god, she's going to eat me alive."

"Only if things go good," Bob said optimistically.

*

When Gerard shuffled into art class, Dewees wasn't in his usual spot. He stared at the seat, wondering if Dewees had decided to come to school as an alter ego and was going to make his dramatic entrance as Klaus the Finnish exchange student in search of bandmates for his death metal band.

Gerard warily sat down in his seat, figuring he was going to have to spend the next hour 'translating' whatever came out of Dewees's mouth for Mr. Armstrong. But then Dewees wandered into the room and sat down comfortably next to Gabe, pointing excitedly to something in Gabe's diorama of a snake being beamed up into a spaceship.

Gerard looked suspiciously at them. Dewees had sat with him every day since sophomore year, when at a party Mikey'd dragged Gerard to Gerard had gotten drunk enough to put on Dewees's weirdass bear costume with its pornstache and leather vest and had done the Macarena with Dewees on the front lawn.

And then Chantal Claret sat down at his table. "Hi there!" she said brightly.

"Hi," Gerard said after a confused pause.

"I'm Chantal!" she said, like somehow he'd managed to miss the loud redhead who'd been in art class with him for three years. 

"Yeah," he said. He stared down at his sketch pad. He didn't know why she was talking to him but he figured it was probably a prank of some sort.

"So what are you drawing? Pedro said it was probably something gross, but I bet that it would totally be fluffy puppies, because you totally can't judge a book by its cover."

"...what's wrong with my cover?" was all Gerard could think to say. He'd instinctively covered his drawings with his hands, and he tried to remember if there was anything incriminating in this one.

Only if she magically knew the significance of the dead cat, he thought, and slowly moved his hands.

"You know, it's a little dirty and could probably use some Febreeze, but it's probably got a really cool story or two in there," Chantal said as she leaned over and peered at his comic. "Hey, that's really fucking awesome. Is that a talking pumpkin?"

Gerard was so engrossed with telling Chantal about the world he'd created that he didn't even notice Lyn-Z had come in until Chantal looked up, grinned, and said, "Lyn-Z! Come check out freakboy's comic book!"

"Hey, freakboy, is that a vampire wearing a skullcap?" Lyn-Z asked, coming up beside him and leaning over to get a better look. Gerard willed himself to stare at the comic, his hands, hell, Chantal's cleavage, anything but turning his head to the right and having himself inches away from Lyn-Z's torso.

"Yeah, he was a gangsta rapper who decided to go for broke on his claims of badassery and immortality," Gerard said. He could practically _feel_ her body heat. She smelled like cigarette smoke and sharpie ink, and maybe that was why Gerard felt a little dizzy but he seriously doubted it.

"Scoot," she said, and Gerard obediently scooted over in his seat until he was hanging halfway off it, and she settled on the other half comfortably, moving his hand to drag his sketchbook closer. His skin tingled where she touched it and half his ass was going numb from the seating arrangement and he never ever wanted to move. Her thigh pressed against his and he tried not to look down but he couldn't help himself and fuck, half of that thigh was naked. And her skirt bunched a little over top of his pants and Gerard quickly directed his eyeline back to the comic where Lyn-Z was tracing a finger over the outline of the vampire.

Seriously, what's the fucking point of school uniforms if certain people went flouncing around in skirts seventeen feet shorter than regulation and going and sitting right on _top_ of him practically and fuck, he was going to have a problem soon if he didn't focus on something besides Lyn-Z's thigh against his own.

So instead he focused on her hands on his comic book. She had a faded friendship bracelet tied around one wrist and her fingernails were short and covered in chipped black polish.

"How come you've never shown me this?" Lyn-Z asked, and fuck, Gerard didn't have a single answer that didn't begin with, “Please marry me."

"Um," he said instead, and shrugged. He was such a loser, it was no wonder that she'd never really talked to him before and definitely wouldn't talk to him again.

"It's really good," she said. She sounded surprised.

Chantal got up and called, “Hey Pedro, I was totally right about Freakboy!”

Gerard wondered if it would ruin any chance he might someday have if he crawled under the desk and _died,_ but then Mr. Armstrong came into the room and called class into order, and Lyn-Z slid off his seat and into her own without comment. Gerard slid over, and spent the rest of class thinking about her warmth.

*

"Okay, are you really sure you're ready to go through with this?" Jamia asked him after school, eyeliner in hand and skeptical look on her face.

Any uncertainties he'd had about this plan had gone out the window now that he knew that Lyn-Z was an actual girl who existed and was warm and he pretty much wanted her pressed against his side for the rest of his life.

"Yes," he said, and listened very carefully to everything Jamia had to say about Eyeliner 101.

Frank was sitting on Gerard's bed again, kicking his feet cheerfully and watching the proceedings with avid interest. Mikey kept wandering in, snickering, and wandering out, texting madly. Gerard would go wrestle the phone away and make sure the texts had nothing to do with Gerard's current activities, but he'd already made Mikey pinky swear the entire hoopla to secrecy, and his brother would never break the sanctity of a fraternal pinky swear.

He shakily tried to replicate on his left eye what Jamia had accomplished on his right, and he was pretty certain that she'd thrown him in a graduate-level eyeliner class. He finally managed to accomplish something that, while globby and uneven, did, from a distance, look somewhat similar to his right eye, and Jamia gave him a proud pat on the back and Frank launched himself over and gave Gerard a hug. 

"Look at my pretty ladies!" Frank cooed, kissing them both sloppily on the cheek. Jamia rolled her eyes and wiped at her cheek, and Gerard beamed and blew Frank a kiss with his awesomely cherry-flavored lips.

Then Gerard tugged off his t-shirt and squirmed into the sports bra Jamia had liberated from her little sister, rolling her eyes at their attempts at bra-stuffing and prodding Gerard's belly and saying, "Hon, first of all, not every girl is stacked, and secondly, it's not like you haven't got anything to work with."

To Gerard's vague horror and, okay, total fascination, she'd totally been right and the addition of the sports bra had made the shirts Jamia brought - "All your shit is too baggy," she'd told him impatiently, and he'd said he could take something of Mikey's, except, duh, Alicia would recognize that instantly - cling to him differently and had totally given the illusion of him having boobs. Little boobs, but boobs nonetheless. Frank had protested, going, "But we're on a mission of _seduction!_ " 

"What, now I'm not hot enough for you?" Gerard had protested, posing in front of his mirror in a red shirt. "Harsh."

Frank stuck out his tongue. "I'm just saying, if Lyn-Z passes you over for a girl with a better rack, you have no one to blame but yourself."

Gerard rolled his eyes and motioned towards his crotch. "Dude, if she's that concerned with appearances I won't stand a fucking chance."

Jamia snorted gracelessly, and Frank said, "Now we get to put him in a skirt, right?"

"He could just wear, you know, girl jeans," Jamia said. "It's not like there's that much difference..."

Both Gerard and Frank stared at her. 

"But what's the fucking point of going in drag if you're going to wear the same damn thing as always?" Gerard said.

"Seriously," Frank agreed. "Gee's gotta look _sassy_."

He ended up choosing a black skirt that _swished_ , which was fucking awesome because dude, none of his pants or shorts swished. Jamia told him he didn't have to shave since he was wearing stockings - it was fall, he didn't want to freeze - but Gerard wasn't going to go about this half-assed.

"You have to maintain continuity," he said seriously. "How am I supposed to feel like a girl if I've got Gerard legs?"

Jamia shook her head, and Frank said, "Can I help?"

"Seriously, I don't even know why you needed me," Jamia muttered.

"To keep them from making Gerard into a drag queen, boas and sequins and all?" Mikey offered from the doorway.

Jamia laughed, and Gerard stuck his tongue out at them before heading into the bathroom with Frank with exciting leg-shaving plans.

*

Jamia's final helpful suggestion had been for Gerard to go out on a dress rehearsal before taking the plunge and meeting Lyn-Z as Gee the spunky lesbian, so after he finished shaving and dressing he and Frank decided to go out for ice cream.

It turned out to be a really great suggestion, because as it turned out, what had just felt kind of daring and awesome in his basement felt a lot like being half-naked and ready for mockery out in public.

He knew he looked like a girl - the skirt, even with Mikey's clunky boots, was a dead giveaway, but even with that half-hidden under Mikey's peacoat, with his hair brushed to shininess and carefully arranged by Jamia and his makeup, he doubted anyone would even doubt his femininity.

Even so, he half expected half the people walking down the street to stop and flip up the front of his skirt to reveal his tightie whities and start yelling out lyrics of "Dude Looks Like a Lady" at him.

"Seriously, Gee, you've got to stop looking so skittish, people are looking at me like I'm a date rapist," Frank hissed.

"They're probably just confused as to why a hottie like me's out with you," Gerard said, nervously touching the plastic barrette shaped like a row of skulls Jamia had clipped into his hair. "They probably think you paid me."

Frank snorted and said, "I am totally out of your league, Miss Overconfidence."

"Keep telling yourself that," Gerard said, sticking his tongue out. Frank responded by pinching his ass, and a pickle-faced lady nearby clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"It's okay, she's really a guy out to falsely woo a lesbian," Frank called over his shoulder to the lady, and Gerard punched him in the shoulder as they entered the ice cream parlor.

Frank bought Gerard a sundae and himself a blue raspberry slushie, which he slurped half of quickly and pressed his palm to his head yelling about brain freeze, god, while Gerard laughed at him. Then Frank stuck out his tongue and announced he was a monster, and Gerard watched the group of jocks nearby totally check him out when he popped the cherry off the top of his sundae into his mouth.

He made a bit more of a show of eating it than he usually would, which made Frank crack up and Gerard grin when one of the jocks totally wolf-whistled across the lobby. 

By the time he got back to his house, he was more comfortable in his new skin, and he kind of understood why his mother fondly called her makeup her war paint.

*

At the audition for the band, Gerard stood nervously clutching his guitar as Lyn-Z, Alicia and Kitty called out directions. Alicia had accepted Mikey’s story about having a friend who was perfect for the band without question, and Gerard was basically never going to make fun of Mikey’s ridiculous network of friends again. He played a few notes, and managed to fail to get through a warbly version of "Sweet Home Alabama" but by the end they were all giggling at Gerard's increasingly inventive curses at his own fuckups.

"You're in," Alicia said as soon as he was finished. 

"Yeah, it's not like we got people beating down the door to get in," Lyn-Z said. "Pretty much you're the only one interested."

"Welcome to the band," Kitty said, smiling warmly.

Gerard felt a little guilty about the amount of road kill littering the highways of his comic. They gave him a handful of burned CDs and told him to "learn the joys of Dolly."

Lyn-Z smiled at him, and he was so happy he fucking skipped on the way home.

*

The problem with actually being in a band with Lyn-Z was that Gerard was subsequently expected to be able to actually _talk_ to Lyn-Z.

"It was a fucking train wreck," Gerard despaired. "Seriously, guys, I was praying for an apocalypse the whole time."

"It couldn't have been that bad," Bob said, not looking up from Gerard's favorite volume of _Preacher_. 

"She asked me what time it was and I said I was fine, okay, it _was_ that fucking bad," Gerard said, flailing his hands. Ray and Frank had come over to give him another guitar lesson, Bob trailing along because apparently he liked watching failure, but Gerard had immediately derailed the lesson into 'share in Gerard's misery' hour. 

"That could happen to anyone," Ray said sympathetically.

"And then I said my favorite _Sandman_ book was _The Chained Coffin_ ," Gerard explained, voice rising in pitch. "And that Glenn Danzig was the reason Black Flag was awesome."

Frank, Bob and Ray all stared at him. 

"Dude, that's fucked up," Bob said finally.

Gerard banged his head against the wall a few more times. Pretty soon there was going to be a skull-shaped hole there that he could stick his head in and hide from the world like an ostrich. 

"Girls don't like ostriches, do they?" he said sadly.

"Not usually," Frank replied.

"And Mikey's out with Alicia _right now_ and when he comes back he's going to tell me all about what a fucking train wreck she and Lyn-Z think I am and how they're going to kick me out of the band and then I'll have learned all the words to "Nine to Five" for nothing and I'll die alone and lonely singing country songs to myself." Gerard almost hoped they _did_ kick him out of the band, because invisible was way better than being that weird girl who doesn't even know who Henry fucking Rollins is.

"Did your cover story go over well, at least?" Ray asked.

"They didn't even ask," Gerard complained. "I come up with a brilliant back-story, and they're fine with just knowing my name's Gee, and then just talked about, like, the band and music and shit."

"And you couldn't even keep that much straight. I think you're lucky you didn't have to keep up with a fake history, too," Frank said with a grin.

Gerard threw an empty soda can at him.

"Come on, now," Ray said, motioning for Gerard to pick the guitar back up. "Let's see you do a D again. And seriously, Gerard, your finger placement hurts my soul."

"Can you teach me to play, "I Hate Myself and Want To Die?"" Gerard asked. "I'm really feeling that song right now."

"A corpse never gets the girl," Ray replied. "Besides, Nirvana is way too advanced for you. I have no fucking idea how you even got into the band."

"Great legs!" Frank offered. "Though I still say his rack could use some work."

"No one else auditioned," Gerard admitted. "And I'm _not_ the eye candy."

"Keep telling yourself that, sugar," Bob snickered.

Seriously, Kurt Cobain had the right idea.

*

The next Monday, art class went by without incident.

Gerard had slunk into the room nervously, waiting for suspicious glares from Lyn-Z, but instead she'd come in and had spent the class chatting brightly with Steve, and he'd gotten caught up in a story Dewees came in telling him about his big sabotage plans for the next pep rally, and the awkwardness Gerard had spent most the night awake fretting about never happened.

Mikey had been useless on providing insider information - after Gerard had sat up half the night nervously imagining what dirt Alicia had dished, Mikey had come stumbling in with his hair mussed and fresh hickeys on his neck and had given Gerard a blank look and said, "Oh, she didn't say anything about the band," when Gerard had demanded that he tell him what Lyn-Z thought of him already.

Gerard made it through the rest of the day and met Frank out on the front steps of the school. He slumped down next him on the low concrete wall that ran along the front of the school and dropped his head on Frank's shoulder.

"I'm guessing Lyn-Z didn't point to you in the middle of class and yell that you like to wear skirts?" Frank asked, patting Gerard's head sympathetically.

"She didn't even glance in my direction," Gerard said. He was strangely disappointed, if he admitted it to himself, which was ridiculous and counterproductive to his entire undercover mission. He _wanted_ Lyn-Z to think he was a girl, not the creepo from art class. Otherwise he didn't stand a chance.

"So the plan's still on?" Frank said.

"I guess," Gerard replied. "I mean. Things have to go better. Maybe I'll manage to come out with an entirely ungarbled, factually accurate sentence."

"Maybe. And maybe Lyn-Z will declare her love for you in the cafeteria by way of serenading you with songs from _West Side Story_ ," Frank said.

A few jocks went by and yelled out a few comments to him and Frank, like always, which Frank responded to by flipping them off and telling them what he'd done to their mothers the night before, and Gerard responded to by lifting his head off Frank's shoulder and resting it on his own knees instead.

"You want to get to know her, right?" Frank said, voice serious for once.

"Yeah," Gerard said. He'd eavesdropped on enough of her conversations with Steve that he was pretty sure she was his soulmate, and if he could ever manage to actually talk to her it would be the greatest conversation ever. 

"Then use the band as a way to get to know her. Don't worry about starting a torrid lesbian affair," Frank said. "And don't tell anyone I said that, either."

Gerard laughed. "I won't."

*

He went to band practice that evening with a running mantra in his head reminding him to just relax and not act like a spaz and most importantly to not fuck up the Gaiman bibliography anymore because then Lyn-Z would never like him enough to want to get to know him, much less ever hold his hand.

He'd run through a lot of fantasies he'd had (a lot of which were inspired by porn he'd seen online) but had ultimately come to the realization following the Great Chair Sharing Incident of art class that if she held his hand his life would pretty much be complete. A kiss would blow his mind, he rationalized, and he'd embarrass himself way before anything R-rated could begin to happen.

It would be really fucking awesome if Lyn-Z ever liked him enough for him to embarrass himself completely, but he had a sinking feeling that Frank and Mikey's predictions about a skirt not being quite enough to overcome someone's sexual preferences were probably a bit closer to the mark than his hopeful assertions that personality would win over anatomy.

It was his third excursion out into the world in his skirt and makeup, and he was kind of surprised how quickly he'd taken to it. It still felt strange, but as he stepped into Alicia's garage and smiled nervously at the band, it wasn't the sort of strange that bothered him.

Kitty was settled behind her drum kit, and she experimentally tapped out a few beats while Gerard took his - okay, Frank's - guitar out of its case. Lyn-Z was plugging in her bass and twisting her lip in thought as she fiddled with the tuning, and Alicia already had her guitar propped up against their tiny amp and was untangling the cord on the mic she'd bought at the flea market the weekend before.

"Hi," he said nervously.

"Hey," Lyn-Z said.

"We're thinking on practicing "Jolene" today," Alicia said. She raised her eyebrow. "You ready?"

"Um," Gerard said honestly. "I can probably manage."

He really couldn't. His only saving grace, he thought, was that Lyn-Z wasn't exactly great either, because Alicia was really fucking good and Kitty could pound the drums as good as any of the local drummers he'd seen playing in bands. 

So Alicia led out the song and Gerard fumbled his way through his part, trying to will himself to stop blushing because he could _feel_ Lyn-Z's bemused glances being shot his way.

They made it almost a minute into the song before Alicia stopped altogether. "Seriously? I know we're getting used to each other, but that was so fucking dire."

Kitty snickered, and Lyn-Z and Gerard both shuffled their feet.

"Again," Alicia said. "And this time, Lyn-Z? Try to keep to the rhythm, and Gee? Maybe hitting _a single chord_ would be awesome."

He tried, he really did. He managed to hit a few right chords, but sort of fumbled his way through the rest of the time. He decided maybe he was trying too hard, and instead thought about the way the guitar strap dug into his shoulder and chest and how he was probably lucky Jamia had halted the fake boobs plan because anything in there probably would have popped and he'd have a hard time explaining a sudden jello incident.

He was thinking about whether or not the rest of the band would buy the excuse that he'd gotten a back alley boob job and fuck it all if everyone wasn't right about those when Alicia signaled for them to stop.

"That was... still pretty awful, but I think we're making a little progress," she announced.

"Lyn-Z almost stayed in rhythm," Kitty said proudly.

Lyn-Z took a bow.

"And Gee... you managed to hit like three right notes. Keep improving like that and you'll get an entire song right by Christmas," Alicia said.

"My gift to you," Gerard answered.

"We'll try again with some words," Alicia said. "So even if you fuck up keep going."

"You mean, if we don't fuck up, refrain from doing a victory lap?" Lyn-Z asked.

"That too," Alicia said. "Ready?"

Gerard thought Alicia's guesstimate about his rate of improvement wasn't too far off the mark, but he still couldn't help twisting his mouth up as Alicia sang her way through an uninspired verse of the song.

She noticed his dismay and said, "Problem?"

"No," he said slowly. "Just..."

"Christ, just spit it out," she said. "Anyone around here given you the impression that pussyfooting around is the way to get shit done?"

"You aren't getting into it," he said. "Like, it's a passionate fucking song, there should be some emotion in there."

"Let's hear you do it with all this passion, then," Alicia said. 

What she didn't say, though, was _it's just a practice_ , which Gerard had been bracing himself for. That more than anything else led him to - looking straight at Alicia and at the assorted junk piled around her garage, not at Lyn-Z or Kitty - singing a verse of the song, throwing himself into it as much he could.

It wasn't until he finished that he remembered that he should probably have tried to go falsetto, but from Alicia's impressed look he was glad he hadn't. 

"That was pretty damn good," Lyn-Z said.

"Real good," Kitty affirmed. "Why've you been hiding those pipes?"

Gerard shrugged as Alicia looked him over measuringly. 

"I think Gee should sing," she said finally. 

That hadn't been what he'd set out to do. "Uh," he said, thinking of the humiliation of his fourth grade play.

"You'll rock it," Lyn-Z said.

"Okay," Gerard agreed.

*

They decided to call it quits around nine. Gerard didn't quite feel like going home, so he ended up at the tiny park a few blocks from Alicia's house, sitting in the fort at the top of the twisty slide, legs dangling over the side as he smoked a cigarette.

It was dark already and the metal under his mostly bare thighs was cold at first, but gradually warmed up enough that he was comfortable.

Comfortable, he thought again, grinning to himself as he kicked his legs and watched his knees flex through the ripped tights he was wearing, and he compulsively smoothed his skirt. His hair was a stringier than it'd been when Jamia had done it, and his makeup was probably a little clownish, though he was getting a steadier hand with the eyeliner, but all in all he was still surprised every time he caught sight of his reflection.

His round face lent itself good to girlishness, he thought, something he probably should have realized earlier from all the art classes he'd taken, and, remembering the fact that he'd managed to both crack jokes and sing a fucking song at practice earlier, there was something to be said for going in disguise. 

Maybe he wasn't as transparent as a girl. Maybe the few lines of paint on his face and the change of clothes let him take on a new persona, one who was confident and could flirt and could sing in front of a crowd and who wasn't too much of a fucking coward to talk to a girl. Another girl. 

Maybe he was like Batman, and had a fucking divide between identities. Maybe he really was confident but it took a costume to bring it out. Maybe he'd been living life as Bruce Wayne instead of as Batman, or instead of striking a balance between them.

But then he remembered how fucked up Batman was, and how Bruce Wayne was just a hated façade, and that he had been just as fucking awkward in his first band practice as he would have been without a skirt.

Maybe he was just Gerard, no matter what he wore.

"Got any extra smokes?" 

Gerard very nearly took a highly embarrassing tumble off the slide tower. Below him, Lyn-Z was staring up at him, questioning look on her face.

"Um, yeah," he said. He dug around in his jacket pocket, and by the time he had the pack in hand Lyn-Z was climbing up one of the ladders, swinging confidently into the fort and settling down beside him, straightening her shirt and letting her jean-clad legs swing comfortably as she accepted his cigarette.

"You're the quiet type, aren't you?" Lyn-Z asks, pulling out her own lighter and flicking it, watching the flame for a second before lighting the cigarette. 

Gerard thought of how many times he couldn't stop himself from talking. "I'm just... shy, really. Once I get to know someone I never shut up."

He definitely just spoke a complete sentence to Lyn-Z, while she was sitting inches away, smoking his cigarette. None of his friends would fucking believe him when he told them. 

"I get that," Lyn-Z said. "I fucking hate breaking the ice, you know?"

Gerard kind of laughed. "So you put the blame off on me? Nice."

Lyn-Z snickered and leaned over, hitting him lightly with her shoulder. "I knew you were alright. I'm not saying you aren't weird, because, yeah, you kind of are, but I think this band is really going to be fun."

Gerard fiddled with his cigarette. "I hope so. I mean. Um. Alicia made me lead singer awful quick, don't you think?"

Lyn-Z let out a mouthful of smoke, leaning back on one hand and giving him a once-over. Gerard shifted kind of nervously, even though he knew everything was the same as it'd been for the past few hours. 

"Alicia didn't really like singing. She's more of a behind the scenes girl," Lyn-Z said. "Me, I'm a performer, that's why I'm in the fucking band. It sure as shit isn't my bass skills. And Kitty, she's really good at what she does. Alicia, she'll keep this band together and make shit happen, but she doesn't need to front it to know that's her place."

Gerard nodded. He hadn't been in the band long enough to see the full dynamics, but what Lyn-Z said definitely meshed well with what he'd seen, and what he'd heard of Alicia from his brother.

"And you're still an unknown, but you've got something inside you, and that came out tonight," Lyn-Z said. "Made me want to find you."

It wasn't an accident that Lyn-Z was here. Gerard stared at their swinging feet, then looked up at her, nervously taking another drag. "You found me," he said.

"Nah, I'll let you know when I've really found you," she replied. "I've broken the ice, but I certainly haven't cracked the shell."

That was the moment Gerard realized how little he knew about Lyn-Z. "I could say the same to you."

"You could," she acknowledged. "But I've got to go."

Gerard watched as Lyn-Z stood, and with a wink at him shuffled around him and sat at the top of the slide. "Talk to you later?"

"Yeah," Gerard said. His mind was reeling as he watched Lyn-Z slide, letting out a giggle he wanted to hear for the rest of his life when she hit the bottom, and he waved back at her as she ran across the playground to a car he now saw waiting on the road, Jimmy Urine behind the wheel.

He stubbed his cigarette out next to Lyn-Z's, and after a second brushed them both off the slide tower to fall to the wood chips below.

*

"Hold still, motherfucker," Frank insisted, grabbing Gerard's chin and tilting his head to the right. "I'm gonna stab you in the eye."

"You are way too into that," Mikey judged from the corner, flicking through Gerard's latest acquisitions from the comic book store. "And Gerard, your taste fucking sucks."

"Blame the fascist editors at the big two, Mikey, not me," Gerard said. 

"And this is a useful life skill," Frank announced, licking his finger and fixing an unwanted smudge. 

"But you guys aren't listening," Gerard said, bringing the conversation back on track. "I said _words_ to Lyn-Z. Strings of words. Coherent strings of words."

"Congratulations," Mikey said. 

Gerard stuck his tongue out at him, because whatever Mikey might deadpan, he was fucking proud of his accomplishment. "And she sought me out. Seriously. Me. Sought."

Frank patted him on the head. Gerard would bat his arm away, but Frank did have a pointed object right next to his eyeball. That was the only thing saving Frank from a good smack down, Gerard figured.

"You two can laugh, but it's a big fucking deal to me," Gerard said. 

"We're proud of you, really," Mikey said. "It's just, you know, you've been talking about that conversation for two days now. Maybe you should, I dunno, talk to her again sometime. Before she forgets who you are."

It turned out his confidence over having held a successful conversation only held as long as there were no other conversations looming on the horizon like a fleet of hostile pirate ships. Gerard imagined each one was armed with canons that shot out different ways for him to fuck up the fragile friendship he was forging.

"That is easier said than done," Gerard said, stomach sinking. He'd even been making it through the school days alright, managing to only stare at Lyn-Z's hands and legs a little bit in the morning classes they shared - totally in a non-creepy way - and to get lost in conversations with Dewees during every art class so he wouldn't be tempted to turn his chair and just stare at Lyn-Z and draw her all over his sketchbook and subsequently be forced to sit through another awkward meeting with Mr. Armstrong and the school counselor at the end of term about his obsessive behavior.

"You've proven you can do it once," Frank said. "You can totally do it again."

They were right, he had managed to not make too big a fool out of himself. In the hundred times he'd replayed the conversation over in his head - usually while laying in his bed staring up at his dark, stained ceiling waiting for sleep - he'd only come up with a few places that he really wished he could erase from history, which was a marked improvement from every other interaction he'd had with Lyn-Z ever.

The more he thought about it, actually, the more he wanted to know about Lyn-Z. What had driven her to seek him out in a park and have an actual conversation with him instead of just waving or asking stupid questions about where he was from or whatever? It didn’t make sense.

"What if I really don't have anything special inside?" Gerard suddenly said, sticking his finger in the cigarette burn in his blanket nervously, and then picking at the charred edges. "What if she's disappointed by me?”

These weren't thoughts he'd normally share out loud, but it was _Mikey_ and _Frank_ , and they might make fun of him but they'd eventually tell him something he needed to hear, even if it was only that they thought he was being stupid.

He wasn't disappointed; Frank immediately smacked him upside the head and said, "That's it. I'm going to spray-paint 'Gee Is A Boring Loser' on her locker."

"Gerard," Mikey said, infinitely more serious. "You know better than that."

"Yeah," he said. "I hope."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Don't be a fucktard. Where's your leading lady charisma at?"

Gerard had been trying to forget about that. "Guess I left it in my skirt," he replied. "I should have known there was something wrong with Alicia's decision-making skills. She's with _Mikey_."

Mikey scrunched his nose and threw an issue of JLA at Gerard, who tried to catch it but only succeeded in crumpling it. 

"Dude, that's fucking cold," Gerard said, trying to straighten out the crinkled pages. "If Ray were here you would be getting _such_ a fucking lecture."

"Lucky for us Ray's otherwise preoccupied," Frank sing-songed. "He got roped into one of Dewees's _plans_."

Gerard had maybe been a little too focused on his own issues. "Wait, when did that happen?"

"Yesterday," Mikey said. "Remember, he had that whole rant during lunch?"

"Yeah, and he only stopped when Bob stuck a cauliflower floret in his hair?"

Gerard couldn't remember any of this. "Lyn-Z had a sandwich and a banana for lunch yesterday," he said.

"I hope you're less of a stalker when you're a girl," Frank said. "Also could you make out with her or something already so you don't pine away to nothing?"

"Like an elf who's heard the sea," agreed Mikey.

Gerard flopped backwards, hanging his head over the side of the bed and staring at his upside down movie shelf. 

"I'm pathetic," he said, and this time Frank and Mikey didn't argue with him. Frank just squeezed his knee and said, "Sit back up here, I'm not done with your left eye."

*

The next day Gerard was halfway to school before he realized he'd fallen asleep with the eyeliner on and hadn't scrubbed it off that morning, and so he dashed into the bathroom at a gas station on his way to school to try to get the worst of it off.

It turned out to be a really fucking difficult thing to get makeup off with only gas station liquid soap and some paper towels, and by the time he got done he'd already missed part of his first class, so he decided to blow off school until lunch.

He didn't want to go back home - he could get back into his room without his mother noticing, no problem, but he was already out and his basement didn't really feel that inviting right then. He ended up wandering around a little aimlessly for an hour or so, and then going to the used record store as soon as it opened at ten.

The girl behind the counter didn't even raise a pierced eyebrow at the sight of a teenager clearly skipping school, which, Gerard could admit, was one of this store's finest qualities. He flipped through bins of records - the store had no organization method, instead employing the Easter egg hunt method of filing, and he'd just flipped past Billy Joel, The Knack and Bobbie Gentry to find a copy of The Damned's _Machine Gun Etiquette_ that he'd been wanting for ages when he realized someone was digging through the bin next to his.

It was Chantal Claret. He kind of stared at her, because, what the fuck, she'd barely even registered on his radar a couple weeks ago and now she kept popping up everywhere.

"Hi!" she said when she realized he'd noticed her. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"Shouldn't you be at school?" he asked before realizing how douchey that sounded.

"Same goes for you, buster," she replied. "I was just browsing, you know, seeing if there's anything worth buying." She eyed the album in his hand and said, "Figures you'd like them."

"The Damned?" Gerard said. He didn't quite like the way she'd said that.

"Yeah. Kind of a theatrical edge to them, really," she continued. "Filing your teeth into fangs is dedication, you know?"

"It is," Gerard agreed warily.

"Kind of like the dedication it'd take to invent a new identity," Chantal continued.

Gerard felt both trapped and a strange sort of calm. "Sometimes a mask is what you need," he replied.

Chantal nodded. "Like Batman."

Chantal was kind of awesome, Gerard decided. "Only a little less fucked up. Hopefully."

She grinned, as though he'd passed some sort of secret test and said, "I don't know about that, honey.” She leaned back and _checked him out_. “ But I’m pretty sure you both look good in tights, and that's what's important."

Gerard was turning pink. He could feel it. He leaned his head so his hair would fall into curtains over his cheeks, so hopefully she wouldn't notice. 

"No, really!" she said. "Don't get all shy now, I don't lie about things like pretty girls or superheroes."

"How'd you know?" he asked. He didn't think she was actually flirting with him, but he was never quite sure.

"I saw you on your way to - well, not school, this morning, " she said. "Pretty good job on the makeup, by the way. It was pretty easy for me to put two and two together." At his blank look she added, "James mentioned that Lyn-Z and Kitty's band has a new girl named Gee in it."

"James?" he asked, even though that wasn't the important part of the fucking sentence.

"Well, Jimmy, but I like calling him James," she said. "It's a thing. Jimmy Urine," she clarified. "We talk sometimes. Online. You know."

From the sudden softness in her voice Gerard was certain she was not, in fact, flirting with him, because she was completely goofy for Jimmy. "Oh," he said dumbly.

Chantal bit her lip. “And, okay, I’ve been kind of stalking you since I noticed you going ga-ga for Lyn-Z in art class, and if you stand a chance with her… well, maybe I do, too. You know. Not with _her_ , but…” 

Gerard nodded, more than a little horrified that _Chantal Claret_ had noticed his crush on Lyn-Z. He studiously stared at the bin of records, flipping through aimlessly. Chantal made herself comfortable beside him.

She flipped through a few more records, and pulled out an Oak Ridge Boys one triumphantly. "At least you don't dress like they do!"

Gerard grinned a little. "Yeah, I'm way more..." he flicked back to a record he's passed a few minutes ago. "Cyndi Lauper."

"Oh, no no no," Chantal said. She turned to another bin, and pulled out the record in the front. "Joan Jett all the way, baby." With a wink she added, "Joan's Lyn-Z's favorite."

"Um," he said dumbly as Chantal dragged him towards the counter. "I don't..."

"Of course you do, who could fucking blame you?" she replied airily. She stuffed the Joan Jett record into his hands along with The Damned one. "But you sure as hell ain't going to win her over being such a timid little bee."

"I'm trying not," he said.

"And I'm going to make sure you don't," she said. Gerard raised an eyebrow at her. "What? I'm an altruistic girl."

"And?" Gerard said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"And then you're going to be my in with James, okay?" she said. "I am not fucking cool enough to talk to him face to face."

Gerard disagreed with her assessment, but he nodded anyway.

He could use all the help he could get.


	2. Chapter 2

Gerard went to school at lunchtime like he'd planned. He didn't get any food since he and Chantal had ended up grabbing some lunch before he'd gone in the direction of school and she'd headed off to the rec center to swim. He settled down at his usual table and waited for his friends to arrive. 

"Dude, I wish you'd told me you were skipping," Ray said as he sat down, slopping some of his mashed potatoes over the side of his tray and cursing it as he tried to mop it up with his napkin. "Fucking runny potatoes."

"It wasn't intentional," Gerard said. He paused and waited for Bob and Frank to sit down. Mikey only sometimes joined them for lunch - today he was across the room having an intense discussion with that soccer player, the one Gerard didn't like. "I ran into Chantal Claret at the record store."

"The redhead on the swim team?" Frank asked. Gerard nodded.

"And?" Ray said. 

"And she kind of knows. You know. About the band thing," Gerard said. 

"So," said Bob. "Someone you've never talked to who has only seen you around school made you, and you're thinking Lyn-Z won't notice even though you sit next to her and stare at her during lunch."

"That," Gerard said, "is not the point. And Chantal only figured it out because I forgot to wash off all of the stupid makeup this morning."

"You didn't have practice last night," Ray pointed out.

"Also not the point," Gerard said. "Frank was practicing on me, okay? And the point _is_ , Chantal wants to help."

"You're already in though," Frank said. "And Toro, stop with the judging looks. You're just jealous you wouldn't look hot in eyeliner."

Bob began to snicker.

"Chantal knows Lyn-Z," Gerard said, waving his hand to hide the fact that he wasn’t all that sure exactly _how_ Chantal would help. She’d been convincing, though. "She's already told me I need to be more Joan Jett."

"I could have told you that," Frank mumbled.

"But you didn't," Gerard replied. 

"You'd better watch out, she has a way better rack than you," Frank retorted.

"Yeah, but she has a thing for Jimmy," Gerard said.

There was a pause.

"You two talked about boys?" Bob said, amused. 

"Did I miss the sleepover?" Frank chimed in.

"It just came up! We also talked about Batman," Gerard said defensively.

"I think it's nice you have someone to have girl talk with," Ray said.

Bob started laughing for real then, and then said at their puzzled looks, "Dude, I hate to break it to you, but girl talk is all _we_ fucking have. You losers."

Frank stuck his tongue out. "Fine, Mr. I'm So Manly Because I Have A Beard, what the fuck kind of guy talk should we be having?"

Bob held up his hands defensively. "Hey, I didn't say there was anything wrong with it. Just, you know, keeping things in perspective."

There was a pause as they each mentally tried to analyze their past conversations.

"Did Jepha and them have manly conversations?" Frank said, referring to the group Bob hung out with before they all graduated or dropped out. Gerard didn't fail to notice that Frank avoided saying Bert's name, just like everyone else. He wondered how long _that_ was going to haunt him.

Bob reflected a moment, stroking his beard. He was the only one of them who hadn't been attached at the hip since the first grade, after all, so they used him as their resident expert in outsider's behavior. "Not really, no."

"Maybe there is no manly," Ray said philosophically. "Maybe we're led to think that we're supposed to talk about football because people in sitcoms do."

"And sex, we totally talk about sex," Frank chimed in.

"So do girls," Bob pointed out. Gerard's stomach dropped and he hoped suddenly that he would never find himself in the midst of a sex conversation with his band, because he would completely lose his cover for sure. Or lose control of other things, he reflected, trying to imagine what his reaction to hearing Lyn-Z talking about anything remotely dirty would be. He suspected his reaction would be _male_ , at the very least.

He found himself gazing at Lyn-Z's table. There appeared to be an argument going on, and Lyn-Z crinkled her nose, grinned, and launched a spoonful of peas at Kitty. 

Then Frank hit him on the side of his head and Gerard scowled at him. "What did we say about the creepazoid factor?"

"Keep it to a minimum," Gerard recited.

"Right," Frank said, like Gerard was a first grader in need of a gold star. "Seriously, you guys, we let this go on too long. We're never going to fix him."

"I don't need fixing," Gerard said, then caught himself looking back at Lyn-Z's table out of habit. "Fuck."

"I hear when they fix dogs they stop being such spazes," Ray said.

"And, hey, that would make your cover way easier to maintain in case you ever manage to convince her to make out with you," Bob offered.

"I hate you all," Gerard replied.

*

"Were you a stalker in art class?" Frank asked, sounding as though he was going to lecture Gerard if he answered wrong. They were all gathered in Gerard's basement to watch _Flight of the Living Dead_ , but no one was willing to get up from wherever they'd plopped to make movie-time happen.

"No, Gabe got me and Dewees to help make a piñata," Gerard said. "Justin Timberlake is harder to replicate using paper maché than you'd think."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Dude, Dewees is a maniac."

Frank, Bob and Gerard all gave him a skeptical look. Mikey didn't bother looking up from his phone.

"I mean, I love him and all, but seriously," Ray said. "He has all these plans. And he wants me to help him with them."

"You were all gung-ho about it a couple days ago," Frank pointed out. He tried to roll over on Gerard's bed and only managed to kick Bob instead. Bob glared and Gerard scooted closer to the edge, thinking he should have taken the floor with Mikey.

"That was before I knew that I was going to be Paco," Ray said. "He wants me to grow a mustache."

"Like you could," Frank said, and Gerard was just opening his mouth to point out Frank's failed attempts at facial hair when faintly from upstairs he heard the ringing of the doorbell. 

Everyone froze.

"Dude, it's the fucking FBI again," Mikey whispered, eyes wide.

"...is your doorbell the opening of "Hells Bells"?" Bob asked. Gerard gave him his best _dude that's not the point_ look. "What? I've never heard it before!"

"It only ever rings as an ill omen," Gerard said, flailing his hands. "Bill collectors. FBI. Dad's cousin - you know, the cable TV game show host."

"We should hide," Mikey suggested. "I don't want to get interrogated again."

"It's just a doorbell," Bob said, shrugging and getting off the bed. He was out the door and up the stairs before they could stop him.

"Maybe we're overreacting," Ray said. "My doorbell rings all the time."

Mikey raised his eyebrow.

Then Bob reappeared in the doorway with Chantal Claret in tow.

"Wow, nice hole in the ground," she said. "I thought the basement dweller rumor was an exaggeration."

Frank hid his face in his arm. Gerard glared but Frank's shoulders didn't stop shaking with silent laughter. Gerard supposed he should be happy Frank was being subtle.

"Hi," he said. "I didn't know you knew where I lived."

"It was sort of like finding Mockingbird Lane, you know?" she said, looking around and then decisively shoving a pile of crap off the desk chair and settling in it backwards, resting her arms on the back. 

"It's not that bad," Mikey said defensively.

Chantal rolled her eyes. "Did I say it was? Was the stained glass in the front door a bunch of bats? That was fucking awesome," she said. 

Ray grinned and offered her the bag of pretzels. "If you aren't here to mock, why are you here?"

"To help with the mission?" she said. She turned to Gerard. "I assumed you mentioned our alliance."

"I did," he said. "I didn't quite realize you were gonna go Secret Service with it, though."

"Hon, it's not like you don't need the help," she said.

"I'm doing fine!" he retorted.

"So you've spoken to her how many times?" Chantal asked. "And the time I called her over to you doesn't count."

"You weren't in on the plan then," Gerard shot back.

"My contributions apply retroactively," she said.

"You can't just retcon yourself into the plan," Gerard said.

"But you can just retcon yourself into a girl who isn't a basement dweller?" Chantal said, eyebrow raised.

Gerard sputtered.

"She has a valid point," Bob said.

"So you agree that Gee needs to actually speak to Lyn-Z," Mikey said.

"I had a whole conversation with her!" Gerard protested.

"Definitely," Chantal said over Gerard.

Ray stuffed a handful of pretzels in his mouth and watched the proceedings with interest.

"I think we need to establish a game plan," Bob said.

"Agreed," Chantal said.

"He keeps fucking up without guidelines," Mikey affirmed. "We don't want a repeat of the Black Flag disaster."

"I don't even think they need me," Gerard said, listening to the plans in dismay.

Frank snickered. "That's what you get for starting this whole mission in the first place."

"But the most important thing," Chantal said loudly, drawing Gerard's attention back to the matter at hand, "is making sure that you don't embarrass yourself when you front the band."

"Don't I just sing? Maybe rock out a bit?" Gerard said blankly.

"If you were a boy," Chantal said. "But since you're a girl you have to decide whether you're going to be Kim Gordon or Courtney Love or Susanna Hoffs or Kathleen Hanna or what."

Gerard said slowly, "So, um, I have to decide if I'm awesome or not?"

"No," Chantal said, rolling her eyes. "You have to decide if you're going to use sex or shun it or be a boy or be coy or flirtatious or hardcore or mean or what."

"That seems a little overly complicated," Ray offered.

"I'm just saying," Chantal said. "Gerard, show us what you've got."

Five sets of eyes turned and stared at Gerard.

"Right here?" Gerard said.

"Well, I'm comfy," Chantal said. Ray leaned over and picked up the guitar and began strumming, and after a second Bob grabbed a couple of pencils and added a beat.

Gerard stood up awkwardly, trying to identify the song, and trying even harder to convince himself it was stupid to be nervous in front of his friends. Then he realized Ray was playing "I Hate Myself and Want To Die," and he flipped him off.

"Okay, this one's for real," Ray said, and began strumming. Gerard still felt like he was in a fishbowl, but he tried his best to sing and ignore the faces his friends kept making at him.

When he was done, Chantal declared that his performance had potential. "But we're going to have to work on it. Confidence, babe."

"Whatever," Gerard said. He didn't want to be the center of attention anymore. He could practically _feel_ the mockery coming on, though when he sat back down Mikey just grinned at him and said, "Alicia does _not_ have poor decision making skills."

Gerard stuck his tongue out at him.

"Are we gonna watch the Zombies on a Plane movie or not?" Bob asked. 

Frank rolled off the bed and started putting the DVD into the player.

"We are gonna have to work on your moves," Chantal whispered loudly as the movie started. "You don't want Lyn-Z's backbends to outshine you."

"...backbends?" Gerard replied as Mikey, who was hardcore about his aerial zombie attacks, shushed them.

Chantal laughed. "Oh, you are in for a treat."

Gerard decided to focus on the zombies then.

*

The next few days passed without incident. Band practice was canceled - Gerard got an annoyed text from Alicia saying ' _bastard demon. garage no go. practice next week_ ,' which he got Mikey to translate as Alicia's brother was working on his car - a beat up old Dodge Demon that he was determined would be a street rod - in the garage and, what with the axle of the car being on the floor and all, wasn't going anywhere, so they wouldn't be practicing until he got it in enough working condition to roll out of the way.

Then it was Friday, and Mikey insisted that Gerard come with him to a party at Gabe's.

"You know I'm not--" Gerard protested, but Mikey dragged him along anyway.

It was pretty much immediately clear when they arrived that half the school - and, hell, half the _state_ \- was at the party. They trekked past cars haphazardly pulled into the yard and even, creatively, in the barren flowerbeds, and Gerard felt a sinking sort of dread.

"Why are you so dead set on me being here?" he demanded. Mikey had stopped asking Gerard to come with him after the shit that went down last year, and now Gerard had the sinking feeling he was being set up.

Mikey shrugged, and then said, "Oh, I should go. There are people," and melted into the crowd. Gerard stood on his tiptoes, trying to see where his brother had gone, but only caught a glimpse of him talking to that soccer player before a gangly guy in a suit bumped into Gerard and spilled beer on his arm, then apologized profusely in a British accent.

Gerard wiped off his arm with a lavender hoodie that lay abandoned outside the hall closet and moved deeper into the house, trying to find anyone he knew and could talk to. His memories of the previous parties he'd attended were hazy at best, and he was debating whether or not Mikey would seek him out and kill him if he helped himself to a beer when someone grabbed his arm and said, "Boo!"

Gerard nearly jumped out of his skin and then realized Frank was hanging off his arm, grinning and then whacking Gerard lightly on the leg with a tiny duffel bag he was carrying.

"Good, I wasn't sure if Mikey was going to convince you to come or not," Frank said.

"You all have been plotting behind my back, haven't you?" Gerard sighed.

"Yep!" chirped Chantal, pushing past Frank to lean against the wall next to Gerard. Jamia appeared a second later, handing out plastic cups to everyone but Gerard.

"You could have just shared the plan with me," Gerard said.

"But what fun would that have been?" Jamia responded.

Plenty, Gerard thought, but didn't bother to voice it out loud.

"Guess who's here tonight?" Chantal sing-songed. "Lookin' fine and on the prowl?"

Jamia raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, she's wearing chucks, so not so much on the prowl, but you're gonna be!" Chantal amended.

"I am?" Gerard said, but Frank was already shepherding him into the kitchen. Gerard caught the a glimpse of Lyn-Z then, pouring a shot into Steve's cup and laughing. She glanced over. Gerard ducked his head and hurriedly went down the stairs into the basement.

The basement was at least ninety percent less creepy than rumor had led him to believe it would be. 

"It's pretty nice down here," he said, glancing around at the rec-room setup.

"Yeah, and the carpet's just the right shade to hide stains," Frank said. "Try not to touch much."

Gerard shrugged, and a minute later Jamia came down the steps, looking around with the same disappointment as Gerard felt. "I thought there would be a stripper pole," she said.

"See?" Gerard said. "Disappointing."

"It's still more of a lair of sin than your basement," Frank said.

"Chuck E. Cheese is more a lair of sin than Gerard's basement," Jamia offered. They snickered and Gerard glared.

Jamia opened the duffel bag and threw something cloth at Gerard. He stretched it out and realized it was a dress. "Put it on," she said. 

Gerard had gotten pretty okay with the skirt thing, only... "Um. There are a lot of people up there," he said.

"There are a lot of people a lot of places," Frank said.

"A lot of people who have kicked my ass over the years," Gerard said. "And might, you know, recognize me."

Jamia rolled her eyes. "Put on the fucking dress, Gee. No one up there is sober enough to recognize you. And actually I'm pretty sure I saw Adam Lazzara in one of the Simpson girls' cheerleading uniforms out on the trampoline."

"He might have better legs," Frank affirmed. "And besides, you've totally lost your pants before in front of way more people. This shouldn't be an obstacle."

Frank had a point, though Gerard wanted to point out that then he'd been one of the happily smashed masses and thus hadn't cared much about losing his pants.

But he did have to get used to this already, and what better way to test his anonymity than to wander out around a bunch of assholes and friends alike?

He put on the dress, and after passing Jamia's inspection - she'd actually brought _scissors_ to trim his bangs into slightly more choppy layers - looked at the flight of stairs with trepidation.

"Just go find her and talk to her," Jamia said.

"And don't fuck up," Frank said helpfully, shooing him towards the stairs.

"Aren't you--" Gerard began.

"We'll find you later," Frank promised.

Gerard rolled his eyes and went to the stairs, self-consciously smoothing the skirt of the black dress and making sure it hadn't somehow gotten tucked up in his tights - which were designed to make his legs look like they were covered in fucking spiderwebs, Gerard was totally fucking jealous about how awesome some girl clothes were - and then fiddled with the sleeves of Jamia's beat up denim jacket she'd offered him when he had looked at the dress's lack of sleeves with dismay.

He thought briefly about chickening out, but then heard a muffled sound behind him and both didn't want to walk in on whatever Frank and Jamia had gotten up to in the _four damn seconds_ he'd been out of the room, god, and did want someone to make sounds with himself, so he climbed the stairs.

Really, it couldn't be any more humiliating than the bearsuit incident with Dewees. 

He opened the basement door and stuck his head out cautiously, but no one was paying the least fucking bit of mind, so he just walked into the kitchen and looked around. Gabe was leaning up against the sink chatting with William and Travis, and didn't look like he recognized Gee at all when he glanced over. Gerard took this as a win and made his way through to the dining room, where he spotted Dewees doing a shimmy in an unimpressed cheerleader's face, and then into the den, where he caught Mikey's eye.

Mikey shook his head slightly - Gerard could see he was standing with Alicia and they were talking to a few people - so Gerard just kept moving until he reached the sliding glass door to the patio and went out into the chilly night.

After the heat of the house with its too many occupants, the back yard was cold, though it wasn't really any less crowded. A group were attempting to down shots while bouncing on the trampoline, to varying degrees of success and undress, while it looked like another cluster of kids had somehow started a fire in the birdbath.

Gerard was considering either hobo-ing it up with the fire kids - he thought he recognized one or two, though it was hard to tell - or going back inside to find out where Chantal had disappeared to when he heard a soft, "Hey!" coming from the shrubbery.

"Hello?" he said warily into the shrub.

"Ni!" came a reply, then a giggle.

He cautiously bent down and saw through the thin lower branches Lyn-Z tilting her head to the side and smiling at him. She waved her hand, inviting him in, and he awkwardly crawled under the shrub, leaves tugging at his hair that Jamia had so carefully arranged and awkwardly trying to make sure he wasn't flashing anything he shouldn't.

He emerged on the other side and flopped down, twisting to the side and leaning against the side of the house next to Lyn-Z. There was a narrow gap between the shrubs and the house, and he was surprised to see that he had a relatively clear view of the yard from here, as well as the patio.

"This is my super secret clubhouse," Lyn-Z giggled. "No boys allowed!"

She tilted her plastic cup over her mouth but it was empty. "Fuck it all," she said, shaking it disappointedly. A few drops went flying out, landing on Gerard's hand.

"Are you okay?" Gerard said. Lyn-Z hadn't really come across as the type to get wasted at a party hosted by Gabe Saporta, but he admittedly didn't know her that well.

"Dandy," she replied, taking his hand and licking the drops of liquor off it in one quick movement. She dropped his hand immediately, and leaned her head against the side of the house.

Gerard tried to keep his breathing under control and most importantly not freak out, but _Lyn-Z_ had just fucking _licked his hand_ like it was nothing.

"Um," he said, mind blank of everything Chantal and Mikey and Frank and everyone had been drilling into him for days. "You don't look alright."

He was pretty sure that telling her she didn't look alright was on the list of things to not say ever, but Lyn-Z looked sort of stressed even through the haze of alcohol.

"It's nothing. It's stupid," she said. She crinkled her nose. "It's stupidly nothing."

"I'm sorry?" he said. He realized that with the way he was sitting, he was offering anyone who happened to peek under the shrubbery a good view of his undercarriage, so he shifted and ended up with his legs folded to the side, causing him to lean over towards Lyn-Z until their shoulders touched. He nervously fiddled with the hem of his dress and said, "Where's Kitty?"

"Off with... off somewhere," Lyn-Z said, waving a hand around. She sounded deceptively casual. "It doesn't matter."

 _Oh._ The situation clicked into focus. Gerard had no idea what to say, so he just sat there a minute, listening to Lyn-Z breathe.

"It's not like I should even care," Lyn-Z said after a while. "You know, about the stupidly nothing. It's not like... " She waved her hand around, clearly searching for the right way to phrase things. "I already knew, you know?"

Gerard nodded. "Knowing and seeing are two different things," he said.

"Yes! That!" she said. "Man, I fucked up. Am fucked up. Something." She rested her head on his shoulder. 

She was wearing dark jeans and a light colored shirt under a dark jacket and her lipstick was some dark shade that made Gerard want to reach out and touch her mouth, just to assure himself it was real. He didn't, instead just said, "It's not like it's your fault or anything. You're awesome."

Lyn-Z laughed into his shoulder, wiggling a little and pressing close and finally mumbling, "Just let me rest here a minute."

"As long as you want," he said. She smiled and closed her eyes and stayed there, breathing steady warm puffs of air onto his sleeve until he could feel the way the denim warmed, and he shifted, awkwardly, enough to be able to wrap his arm around her shoulder so she wouldn't slide face-first into the dirt.

Or his lap, he thought, flushing, and couldn't decide which would be worse.

He watched the party through the lower branches of the shrubs - someone seemed to have found lighter fluid, and there was a loud argument going on at the birdbath about whether vodka or lighter fluid was more flammable, which Gerard thought was a pretty pointless battle. People wandered in and out of the house, and at one point he saw Chantal's bright red hair shining like a beacon from the porch, though she never spotted him in his secret clubhouse.

She was joined for a minute by Frank, who asked her something and they both shrugged, so Gerard figured they'd noticed they'd lost him. Neither, he noted, looked particularly hopeful that he'd succeeded. He smiled down at Lyn-Z's hair - it was thick and loose tonight, instead of in the pigtails she wore with great irony to school - and tried not to move much, because he wanted to feel her against his side forever.

He was watching the flutter of her eyes intently - she didn't seem to be sleeping deeply, just lightly catnapping - when she shifted, tilted her head up and opened her eyes.

There was only a few inches between their faces. Gerard's heart was pounding and he could feel suddenly everywhere their bodies were touching as though Lyn-Z were made of pure electricity. 

"Thanks," she murmured. She didn't move, just looked at him, up at him, with those parted lips and dark eyes and Gerard wanted nothing more than to just be able to summon the will to move that last few inches and press their lips together.

He couldn't move and didn't want to, so he just watched her - the hazy dreamy way her eyes passed over his face, the way her front tooth suddenly caused an indention on her lower lip, the way she smelled like liquor and something sweet.

The moment stretched and thinned, and if Gerard didn't do something - if Lyn-Z didn't move - he thought they might stay here like this forever, in the tingling nerve-wracking unbearable moment just before a kiss. He thought his nerves might rebel and stop working, that his heart would beat faster and faster until he just keeled over, that he might flick his tongue out and taste her.

And then she looked away, and pulled back slightly, and the possibility of a kiss evaporated, and Gerard was left with a racing heart and spinning mind and tingling nerves all up and down his body.

"I..." she said, digging her fingers into the loosely packed dirt they were sitting on. "I..."

And Gerard remembered that she smelled like liquor because she was fucking smashed, and felt immediately like an asshole. "Want me to get you some water?"

"They might..." Lyn-Z said, then stopped. "No, it's probably safe to go in the kitchen. I'm a big girl."

She crawled through the shrubs, then smiled back at Gerard over her shoulder through her messy curtain of hair. "Thanks. For... Thanks."

Gerard nodded, and followed her back out into the party.

* 

Gerard wasn't even really sure how he made it home, because he just kept thinking, "I almost did it. I almost kissed her. She almost kissed _me_ ," over and over and suddenly he was standing in front of the door of his house, realizing that he didn't have a key to get inside.

He rang the bell and waited patiently for his mom to let him in, and was in the kitchen accepting her offer of cocoa before he remembered he was wearing a dress and spiderweb tights and his Chucks. 

"You're probably wondering..." he started, but his mother just waved a careless hand over her shoulder. 

"Darling, I've seen worse." She winked. "Done worse, too."

"Please don't share," he said, slumping down at the kitchen table. She sat a mug of cocoa- his favorite Batman mug, which made him grin - down in front of him, a tiny bit slopping over the side onto the table. 

"I'll wait for your wedding toast, then," she said. "Hopefully you'll be as pretty then as you are tonight." And then she pinched his cheek.

"Ma-a!" Gerard whined, leaning to try and dodge a repeat pinch. 

"So you had a good night?" she said, settling down across from him with her own cup of coffee, which Gerard eyed jealously before remembering that cocoa was nice, too, with the added bonus of having a layer of melted marshmallow.

He shrugged, then said, "There's this girl."

"Girl?" his mother said, looking skeptical.

Gerard crinkled his nose at her and said, "And she's having problems with her girlfriend, which is what I _wanted_ , but she looked so sad that I don't want that anymore. Only I want to be her girlfriend, so." He shrugged and took a sip of his cocoa.

"Just don't be the one to cause the problem with her girlfriend," his mother said. "I didn't raise no hussies."

They both heard the back door creak open slowly, and from his mother's amused expression Gerard suddenly realized exactly how few of his misadventures had slipped past her unnoticed.

"And speaking of which, you should definitely work harder on your mascara," she continued. "Clumps look cheap, you know."

Mikey froze in the kitchen entryway.

"Good evening, darling," Ma said. "Would you like some cocoa?" Then she took in Mikey's mussed appearance, messed-up hair and misbuckled boots. "Or coffee?"

"That would be good," Mikey said, slumping down at the table. He quirked an eyebrow at Gerard, who raised his mug at him.

"Have a rough night?" she asked, setting Mikey's coffee in front of him. He got the dancing skeletons mug. "Or a good night?"

"Um. Both, I think," Mikey said.

"What, did Alicia say something about me?" Gerard demanded.

"I barely talked to Alicia," Mikey said. It was Gerard's turn to raise an eyebrow. That wasn't what he'd seen, but admittedly he'd spent a lot of the evening distracted.

"Then do I need to be inviting someone new to dinner?" their mother asked.

"Um. Probably not," Mikey said. "Pete kind of kicked me out. Of his car, I mean," he clarified, looking at his coffee. "I think he freaked out."

"Well, clearly he wouldn't know a good thing if it bit him in the ass," their mother said. "Both my boys are catches."

Mikey grinned, and said, "Please don't tell him that, Ma."

"How would I get the chance? Unless you're inviting him over, that is," she said. 

"What about Alicia?" Gerard burst out with. 

"It's complicated," Mikey said.

"She's my bandmate," Gerard said. "I want to know if she's been dumped."

"No," Mikey said, inspecting his coffee. 

Their mother raised an eyebrow. "Michael James, you'd best not be two-timing that girl."

"I'm not," he said, still staring at his coffee.

"Well?" Gerard said.

"She's... we're... Pete's..." Mikey said, fiddling with the handle of his cup.

"I see," Ma said. "That can get messy quick, you know."

"I know," Mikey said.

"Just so you know," she said.

Gerard was slower to catch on, and he just stared at Mikey, a little slack-jawed. Mikey glared at him and said, "Gerard stole your makeup."

"I'm more concerned with which of you was pawing through my underwear drawer," she replied.

"Frank," they both chimed.

"Well, that's a different story," she said. "It's been a while since I've had a cute young boy in my panties."

"I'm going to pretend you never said that," Mikey said.

"And never ever mention that to Frank," Gerard amended. "For the love of god."

Their mother just laughed and took a sip of her coffee, shaking her head at them fondly.

*

The next morning Gerard was woken by Frank launching himself onto his bed and whacking him with a pillow and yelling, "Thanks for inviting me to the sleepover!"

"Oof!" Gerard managed, trying to shield his face from the light and the seemingly endless barrage of pillow. He managed to roll over enough to snag the pillow Mikey had hidden his own head under, jerking it away before Mikey could get a grip on it and doing his best to manage to land a fluffy blow on Frank.

He pretty much failed, as Frank was both fully awake, clearly caffeinated, and had full mobility of his legs, which Gerard, tangled up in the sheets, desperately lacked.

"Fuck off and die," Mikey grumbled sleepily, trying to burrow his face into his arms. 

"You asswipes both disappeared last night," Frank said. 'What the hell happened?"

"Nothing," Mikey said, peeking up from his arms. "Please give me my pillow back."

Gerard reluctantly handed back the pillow. 

"And you?" Frank said, staring at Gerard. "Did you get up to _nothing_ too?"

"Almost," Gerard said, grinning at the memory. "I almost kissed Lyn-Z."

" _Almost_ being the operative word," Frank said.

"Hey, we had a moment," Gerard said. "A beautiful moment I am not going to sully by retelling."

"She was smashed, he offered her his shoulder, then almost kissed her," Mikey said. "Then he left and came home and had cocoa with Ma."

Frank raised an eyebrow at Gerard, who defensively said, "I talked to her! And she licked my hand!"

"That is progress," Frank said. He flopped down between Gerard and Mikey and said, "What's on the agenda for today?"

"It's _Saturday_ ," Mikey said. 

"What, no top secret plans?" Frank said.

"You're the one with all the secret plans lately," Gerard pointed out. He managed to disentangle his foot from the sheet and rolled out of bed. By the time he got back from the bathroom, Frank was sitting cross-legged on the bed saying, "So Alicia was down with that?"

"But Pete, apparently, wasn't, so much," Mikey said.

"But he was all over you in the basement!" Frank protested. "Jamia didn't stop talking about it for half the way home."

"Apparently he's all about above the belt action," Mikey said.

Frank paused, opened his mouth, then shut it again. Gerard climbed back on the bed and said, "Yeah, that's what I said."

"So after all that he kicked you out of his car?" Frank said. "Want me to piss in his locker?"

"Yes," said Gerard just as Mikey said, "No!"

"What the hell do you mean, 'no'?" Gerard demanded. 

"Then he'd think I cared," Mikey said. He picked at the Star Wars sheets. "I don't want to make a big deal out of it."

"But it is a big deal!" Frank said. "No one insults our Mikey and gets away with it piss free!"

"Damn skippy," Gerard agreed.

"Can't we talk about something else?" Mikey said. "Something that doesn't involve Pete Wentz?"

"How about striking while the iron is hot?" Frank said, looking pointedly at Gerard.

"Pete Wentz is a dick," Gerard said. "I think we should still talk about that."

"Ask Lyn-Z how she is," Mikey said, leaning over and snagging Gerard's phone off the cluttered table next to the bed.

"I don't have her number," Gerard said.

"You're in a _band_ with her," Frank said.

"I really don't think it's a fucking surprise to anyone that I haven't managed to ask her for her number, even with legitimate reason," Gerard said. 

Mikey started tapping out a message on Gerard's phone.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Gerard asked, trying to look over Mikey's shoulder. He, well-practiced, hid the screen and kept the phone out of Gerard's reach. "Seriously, you can't just..."

The phone buzzed win an incoming message. Gerard caught a glimpse of Alicia's name on the screen.

"Got her number," Mikey announced. Frank crawled over and sat shoulder-to-shoulder with him as they programed it in - Gerard flopped back and hid his face under the pillow in embarrassment as soon as Frank suggested saving it under 'Sex Goddess' - and only peeked out when Mikey announced, "Okay, we're going to give you one shot."

"Don't fuck up," Frank said sternly.

Gerard stared blankly at the phone, where the cursor was blinking waiting for his words of wisdom to... "Mary Jane Watson? Seriously?"

"You've been pining for seventeen years," Frank said.

"Two months," Gerard said, ignoring Mikey's snort. "And I don't even fucking like Spiderman. I'm not a whiny bitch like Peter Parker."

"Stop stalling," Mikey said. 

"Fine," grumbled Gerard. He stared. There were a lot of different words that could be used as a greeting. _Hey, hi, yo, holla, hello, bonjour, howdy..._

"Is 'hey' too forceful?" Gerard said. "Like, what if she thinks I'm being all angry, like, 'hey, you'?"

"Okay, you just lost texting privileges," Frank announced, plucking the phone out of Gerard's hand. He handed it to Mikey, and Gerard watched helplessly as Mikey texted _hey its gee_ and hit send.

Gerard stared at the phone like it was going to start shooting off laser beams. 

"She's probably not even up yet, if she was as smashed as you said," Mikey said.

The phone buzzed.

"I definitely didn't think it would be that quick," Frank said.

"It could be someone else," Gerard said, staring at the phone like it held the secrets of the universe.

Mikey rolled his eyes and picked up the phone. "Lyn-Z says hey," he said, then sent, _u ok today?_

"What if she likes proper spelling?" Gerard said. "You just ruined everything!"

"It's like he _took classes_ in how to be a goober," Frank whispered, awed, to Mikey.

"Like you weren't a train wreck when you and Jamia were getting together," Gerard grumbled.

"Yeah, but most seventh graders _are_ ," Mikey said.

Frank punched him in the arm. "We haven't been together since the seventh grade, okay."

"It was the _eighth_ grade," Gerard corrected. "Remember, you held hands at the dance and your mom was there taking pictures and cooing about the wedding."

"Fucker, I'm gonna tell Lyn-Z that you like porn tits and assmunching," Frank said. "Gimme the phone."

Gerard made a protesting sound while Mikey rolled his eyes. Then the phone buzzed again. _alive. sry i split_.

Mikey raised an eyebrow, and Gerard reached over and grabbed the phone. _sok. i left too._

Frank and Mikey were watching him like fucking hawks. The phone buzzed again almost immediately, and Gerard was almost afraid to look. _y?_

He paused, and then, before he could change his mind, pecked out, _cuz u werent there_.

The phone sat motionless in his hand for several long minutes, and then Frank said, "Hey, let's go check out the record store."

"Yeah," Mikey agreed quickly. 

Gerard stared at the phone some more, and then reluctantly began poking around in the piles of laundry for pants.

*

He knew that they were only there to distract him from the phone that was sitting silently in his pocket, which meant that Gerard should have been sullen and brooding, but Mikey'd had a worse night than he had and it wasn't like there was much Lyn-Z could say to that text, especially not in the condition he figured she was probably in, so once they arrived at the record store he actually found himself having fun digging through the bins and cheering Mikey up by taunting him with Rick Springfield albums.

Bob showed up after a little while, and Frank launched himself at him, insisting Bob carry him piggyback through the aisles while Frank attempted to swat at the various bits of band merch that dangled from the ceiling. Mikey was eyeing the door like he was afraid Pete would come in.

Gerard's pocket buzzed. He flailed a little, trying to get the phone out of his pocket, and then stared at the screen.

It was from Alicia and said, _practice tonight_. 

He was going to have to be face-to-face with Lyn-Z tonight, as Gee, after almost kissing her the night before then basically confirming it via text message this morning. Things were going to go so badly. He would probably do something unbelievably humiliating. 

Not to mention the fact that Lyn-Z might say something to him involving the word 'friends,' which, okay, was better than what he had with her now, but just the thought of her face that close to his last night made his stomach tie up in the good kind of knots, and he would do pretty much anything to get to actually kiss her.

Including, he realized glumly, going to practice where Kitty would be sitting at her drums smiling and Lyn-Z would be there, and fuck, it was going to be awkward and weird.

Bob appeared beside him, having lost Frank somewhere, and Gerard said, "It's going to be so fucking awkward and weird."

"So's your face," Bob replied, then, "What are we talking about?"

"Band practice," Gerard clarified. "Lyn-Z and Kitty both there after everything that happened last night." Bob looked blank so Gerard filled him in. "And now I'm going to show up and be a tool and they're all going to make fun of me behind my back."

Bob shrugged. "Then don't be a tool." 

Like it was that easy, Gerard thought darkly. Like he could just waltz into practice and somehow not be a tool, just because he'd decided not to. Maybe that shit worked for Bob, but it wouldn't for Gerard. He said as much, and Bob cuffed him on the back of the head and told him to toughen up because Lyn-Z didn't seem like the kind of girl who went for pansies.

"Plus," Bob added, "your constant trips into pitiful-land are kind of annoying."

That, Gerard supposed, might be true. 

"Have any of you heard from Ray today?" Bob said.

"No," Gerard replied, realizing for the first time Ray hadn't actually been at the party last night. Bob either, but then, Bob had a tendency to skip parties like that. Gerard suspected he went and hung out with his old group of friends on those nights, but that was still a tender subject so he never asked.

Bob called Frank over and asked him the same thing.

"Ray said he was going to be doing something with Dewees," Frank replied.

"Is Dewees really planning something that epic?" Bob asked. Dewees' previous attempts to sabotage the pep rallies had usually involved him following the cheerleaders out in a knockoff cheerleading uniform and attempting to cheer along until one of the coaches pulled him away, or trying to pay off the marching band to play "Iron Man" instead of the fight song, except the only currency he’d offered were lap dances performed by Dewees himself, and the marching band had surprisingly not taken him up on the offer.

“Who the fuck knows,” Frank said. "He's apparently sworn Ray to secrecy."

"And Ray's actually keeping his mouth shut?" Gerard asked. In his experience Ray could be plied with TV spoilers and cupcakes.

“It’s fuckin’ weird,” Frank agreed.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a blur. They finally found Ray and then were forced by every rule of friendship to make fun of him forever because of the fact that his hair was now shorter on one side than the other, giving him the illusion of being a dandelion puff that had only been halfway blown away.

"My mom did it, okay," Ray kept protesting, but they all figured it had to do with whatever misadventure he was getting up to with Dewees. They filled him in on the various situations the Ways had gotten into, and Ray shook his head at them, something which made them laugh at him even more.

It was time to get ready for practice before Gerard was really ready, and he'd almost - _almost_ \- forgotten the texts to Lyn-Z as he pulled on the knee socks decorated with frightened black cats that Bob had gifted him with.

He heard the upstairs door slam, and he glanced at the clock. He was going to be late, but if Mikey was home then he had to go see him. He attempted to run up the stairs, but his boots' low heel, even though it was sturdily wide, threw him surprisingly off balance and instead he ended up creeping up the stairs and almost staggering down the hall into Mikey's room. 

"Damn, I almost twisted my ankle," he bitched, glaring at his shoes and then at Mikey, who was standing next to his stereo, a Smiths CD in hand, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Having troubles?" Mikey said, putting the CD in the player and hitting play casually, like Gerard couldn't tell which song he wanted to skip to. Gerard solved the problem by going over and skipping to "I Want the One I Can't Have," and flicking Mikey's arm. 

"Seriously, Mikey, you're better off without him," he said, though even he knew how empty his words were. He pushed his hair out of his face, then quickly checked in the mirror to make sure that he hadn't smeared his painstakingly applied eye makeup too badly. 

"Uh-huh," Mikey said.

"Too bad you've already made your move," Gerard continued. "Because I am totally willing to share my eyeliner and skirts, and that is not an offer I make to just anyone."

This time Mikey did snort. 

"I'll be back later, okay?" Gerard said. "And don't spend the night listening to number six on repeat."

"I was just going to listen to it all on repeat," Mikey said, flopping on his bed.

"At least you have Alicia," Gerard pointed out.

Mikey gave him a crooked smile. "Yeah."

"I am so fucking late," Gerard said, "Lyn-Z is going to think I freaked out."

"She isn't," Mikey told him, and motioned for him to go. "I'm okay. Really."

"Pete Wentz is an idiot," Gerard said.

Mikey rolled his eyes and flipped him off, and Gerard left. He spent the walk to Alicia's perfecting the art of walking in his boots - turned out that ass-wiggling served an important function, who knew - which allowed him to mostly keep his mind of the impending drama of seeing Lyn-Z face to face for the first time since their almost-kiss.

It was hard to believe that had been less than twenty-four hours ago. 

"Looks like our songbird's finally decided to show up," Alicia snapped when he walked into the garage. Kitty and Lyn-Z both looked relieved.

"Sorry?" he said. He hadn't thought he was _that_ late. 

"Don't fucking make us wait around for you again," Alicia said, picking up her guitar, then turning to glare when Lyn-Z and Kitty didn't immediately move into band formation. "Well?"

Gerard awkwardly pulled his guitar strap over his head and took position at the mic. They practiced in a circle, so he was staring at Kitty. She shrugged at him, and cut her eyes to Alicia, who was angrily twisting at the tuning pegs on her guitar.

"Are you okay?" Gerard asked. He'd been so focused on his brother and his own drama that he hadn't really thought about the fact that Alicia was totally just as involved in the Wentz mess as Mikey was.

"Fine," Alicia gritted out. "I just want to fucking play, okay?"

"Let's start with "Me and Little Andy”," Lyn-Z quickly suggested. Her pigtails were crooked and she wasn't wearing the red lipstick she tended to wear when playing - it made her feel badass, she'd explained during the first practice when she noticed him looking - but she looked like she was in better spirits than Alicia, at the very least.

Gerard tried to remember the words and managed to not flinch when Alicia hit a particular screeching note on her very first strum. She glared at her guitar like it was to blame and kept playing, improving somewhat but still sounding as though she was taking a lot of aggression out.

He tried to strum as inoffensively as he could, and Kitty seemed to be hitting her drums half-heartedly until Lyn-Z glared at her - Gerard had no fucking clue what was going on with them today, especially in light of last night - and then Kitty started pounding away, leaving Gerard to try to fill in vocals on the most aggressive rendition of a Dolly song ever.

Well, he thought, at least they were getting the punk part down, even though he was a little worried that Alicia was going to break a string soon. Or maybe all of them. Or her pick. She was not treating her instrument with respect, like Ray kept insisting that Gerard do.

He did his best to sing along, internally flinching as he hit sour notes and his voice cracked, but no one seemed too bothered by his performance. Halfway through Lyn-Z met his eye and winked, and he only forgot a few of the words. 

He wasn't sure how he made it through the next half hour of cycling through the four songs they'd been working on, each taking a more and more hardcore edge as even Gerard started using the music as an outlet for the frustration he was feeling, and by the time they all put down their instruments and made their way to the couch along one wall of the garage, surrounded by broken bicycles and boxes of holiday decorations, they were sounding - well, not really competent, but really fucking aggressive and kind of awesome.

"That was kind of awesome," Kitty announced, pulling a lawn chair out of the pile of junk to one side of the couch and settling down on it. Gerard flopped on the middle cushion of the couch more out of habit than thinking, and it was only when Lyn-Z casually dropped down on the cushion beside him that he realized that she was going to be all up against him when he was pretty gross and sweaty.

Alicia looked pretty boneless when she took the other side, leaning her head against the back of the couch and staring at the ceiling. "Sorry I'm bitchy today," she said. "It hasn't been a good day."

Lyn-Z leaned over Gerard - he sucked in his belly and tried to convince himself that breathing wasn't the most difficult thing in the universe to do - and patted Alicia on the hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Alicia said, then, after a pause, "Boys. Stupid, stupid boys and their stupid, stupid brains."

"You and Mikey have a fight?" Kitty asked.

Alicia paused. "No."

Lyn-Z raised her eyebrow. She moved so that she was sitting sideways on the couch, back to the arm of it and legs splayed in a way that made Gerard extremely conscious of where his hands were.

"It's complicated," Alicia said. "Um. Remember Pete?"

And that was the first time Gerard realized that Alicia herself had history with Pete Wentz.

"You can't cheat on Mikey!" Lyn-Z protested. "Where will we get our DVDs then?"

Alicia glared. "No one's cheating. Not really. Um. It doesn't count, anyway."

Gerard kept his mouth firmly shut.

"What the hell does that mean?" Kitty demanded. Gerard thought she was a fine one to get indignant about cheating, but again, he kept his mouth shut.

"It means... I've been talking to Pete, and, um, so has Mikey," Alicia said. "And last night something that wasn't talking happened, but it got complicated and now Pete and Mikey aren't talking, and Pete isn't talking to me, either."

"You talk too much," Lyn-Z judged. "And what the hell does complicated mean? Did Mikey get jealous or did you?"

"Neither," Alicia said. "Pete kind of freaked out."

Gerard felt like he'd had this conversation a lot lately, but it was only now that Lyn-Z's knee was bumped up against his bare thigh - their bare skin was touching where the hole in the knee of her jeans was, and it was all that he could fucking do to keep from giving away the whole ruse right here and now, focusing intently on his brother's sex life in an attempt to keep his mind off anything pertaining to his own - that he thought about what was going to happen if Lyn-Z found out that he wasn't a girl.

He'd be in the same boat as Pete fucking Wentz, and that was the last thing Gerard wanted.

He fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of his skirt as he said, "Maybe he just needs a little time to process things."

Lyn-Z shifted her weight and her knee pressed harder into his thigh, so he looked directly at Alicia and tried to not think about Lyn-Z's knees, not the scratch mark on one or the way it would feel to have them pressed against him from another angle. Her hand was casually resting just inches away from his and he refused to think of how little movement it would take to touch her fingertips.

Alicia was biting her lip. "I don't know. What if Pete's really, like, _not_ gay enough? It might break Mikey's heart and I'm not prepared to deal with that."

Kitty shrugged. "If he can't love all of Mikey, then he's not worth it."

Beside him, Lyn-Z bit her fingernail. "Yeah, but maybe that's not his fault, you know?" 

Kitty was looking at Lyn-Z in a way that told Gerard this comment was just thinly veiling an old conversation between them.

Alicia seemed too preoccupied with her own issues to notice. "He really likes Mikey, though. He smiles when he talks about him." She paused, like she was debating sharing, but then went for it. "It's nice, you know, talking to someone who feels the same way you do about someone else."

"You aren't jealous?" Lyn-Z asked.

Alicia shrugged. "I think they're the same way about me, so, not really. Not jealous enough to want this to not happen."

"But if Pete freaks out again..." Kitty said, then bit her lip. "I mean, that'd fuck with the dynamic, if he's weirded out by Mikey being a guy."

"I'm trying not to pry," Lyn-Z said, "but where did Pete freak out, exactly?"

Alicia thought a second and then said, "He was okay with everything up until... Basically, as long as he didn't come in contact with a dick that wasn't his," Alicia said. She didn't seem too willing to share the nitty gritty details of her failed threesome, a fact Gerard was somewhat grateful for, even though he'd already gotten the gist from Mikey himself.

"So he was down with things so long as he could pretend Mikey was a girl?" Lyn-Z asked. Gerard thought she didn't sound like she disapproved of Pete, but he realized he was probably projecting.

"I mean, he wasn't pretending Mikey was a _girl_ ," Alicia said. "I think he just... he just managed to not think about what he was doing until he had the evidence right there in his hand, and then it was too much."

"But if he lo-likes Mikey," Lyn-Z said, "then maybe he just needs to get used to the idea."

"But if he can't," Kitty said, looking at Lyn-Z, "then what?"

Alicia looked lost. "I don't know," she said quietly.

Gerard felt like he should say _something_. "Just give him a little time. Maybe they’ll come around."

Lyn-Z nodded.

"I hope so," Alicia said, but then scrunched her nose up at Gerard. "But what do you know, Gee, it's not like you've met them. They're stubborn bastards, the both of them."

"Sounds like you're meant for each other," Lyn-Z offered, and Gerard couldn't help grinning at her. She grinned back, and Gerard realized only a few seconds too late that he was being a goofball and stopped grinning at her like a loon. He saw Kitty roll her eyes and hoped that he hadn't been too obvious.

Alicia was grumbling - something, Gerard missed the first half of it because _Lyn-Z smiled at him_ , seriously - and Kitty offered to buy her a coffee "with as fancy a name as you want, and caramel and whipped cream and if that cute boy's there we can probably convince him to add sprinkles, too."

"You coming?" Alicia asked, but Gerard shook his head. He should get back to Mikey.

"Come on, Lyn-Z," Kitty said, and Lyn-Z said, "I'm just gonna head home. I still haven't written that stupid English paper."

Kitty shrugged and said, "Your loss," and escorted Alicia out, who was already on her phone. Probably reading all the things Mikey had sent her during the past hour, Gerard reckoned, and hoped Mikey hadn't gotten stuck listening to "How Soon Is Now," because then it would take him all night to get him to believe that no, all hope was not gone, and he hadn't waited too long.

Then he realized he was standing alone in Alicia's garage with Lyn-Z, who was picking at the hole in her jeans nervously. 

"Uh," he said, shifting nervously and almost losing his footing because of his damn boots.   
Lyn-Z half-smiled and said, "Hey, you should walk with me."

"Okay," he said, never mind that would be his answer to anything Lyn-Z suggested, up to and including covering himself with honey and streaking through a bear den.


	3. Chapter 3

They left the garage, and Lyn-Z's shoulder kept bumping against his as they stuck to the narrow, weed-choked sidewalk. 

"Sorry about last night," she said, not looking at him. "I was kind of stupid."

"No," Gerard said immediately, then clarified, "It's not stupid to be upset."

"It was a stupid thing to be upset over, though," Lyn-Z said. "But it's in the past now."

"Yeah," Gerard agreed uneasily, "in the past."

Kitty and Lyn-Z hadn't exactly been cold to each other during practice. Tense, yeah, but everything had been. Fuck.

"But I'm glad we're closer now," Lyn-Z said. "It helps sometime just to talk, you know?"

Gerard nodded but didn't trust himself to say anything. He was increasingly worried with where this was leading.

“Like….” Lyn-Z trailed off and kicked at a loose bit of pavement. “Mind if I unload something?”

“No!” Gerard said. “I mean, yes. Or, no, I don’t mind.”

“It’s just, I love Kitty and all, but she’s just so _frustrating_ sometimes,” Lyn-Z said, “you know?”

“Not really,” Gerard said. He summoned his courage. “What was your fight about?”

She sighed. “What would _you_ do if you liked someone who was dating someone else?”

“Uh… I guess it would depend on the situation?” Gerard started, flapping his hands around. “Like… I don’t know.”

Gerard flapped a little too hard and accidentally veered off the sidewalk and only just caught himself before falling on his face. Lyn-Z reached out and helped him regain his balance before saying, “Yeah, well, me and Kitty don’t really agree on what the answer to that should be.”

“I, um… I’m sorry.”

Lyn-Z bumped shoulders with him again, this time on purpose, and said, "It's good to have a friend."

Fuckity fuck fuck. Gerard knew what that meant. "Yeah," he managed to choke out.

The silence that followed felt awkward and Gerard had to say _something_. He couldn't bring up the almost-kiss, so instead he said, "I like talking to you. Listening."

"I don't really have an English paper," Lyn-Z said. "Well, I _do_ , but it's fucking Saturday night. I'm not going to write it now."

Gerard smiled. "I know, I'm..." He cut himself off just before saying, _I'm in that class_. "I’m the same way."

"Do you..." Lyn-Z faltered, then said, almost shyly, "Do you want to come to my house and watch a movie?"

Gerard's stomach and his heart nearly collided, and he fiercely reminded himself that they were _friends_. Just friends. "That sounds like fun," he said, mentally apologizing to Mikey. 

"Awesome," Lyn-Z said. She grinned at him and said, "We're already going in the right direction."

"Cool," Gerard managed to get out. He was already mentally freaking out. He was going to Lyn-Z's _house_. Where she lived, all the time, being awesome. Where she slept and where she showered and oh god everyone was right he was a total creep when it came to her.

He really hoped she wouldn't notice that.

"I'm assuming you like horror?" she said, glancing down, and Gerard had a moment of abject terror trying to figure out what she meant before remembering his black cat socks. 

"Of course," he said, hoping that he didn't sound horrified. Maybe he was just going to have to rethink this becoming Lyn-Z's girlfriend thing if he was going to have a heart attack every time she fucking talked to him.

"Great! I've got _Zombie Strippers_ ," she said cheerfully.

"That sounds kind of exploitative," Gerard said reluctantly. 

"Please," Lyn-Z said, rolling her eyes. "It's Jenna Jameson's finest work."

Holy fuck. Apparently Lyn-Z invited her friends to her house to watch zombie porn. Gerard was first of all mildly disappointed in himself for not having thought of finding zombie porn on his own time, and wholly horrified because there was no way he could watch zombie porn with Lyn-Z and giggle or what the fuck ever girls did when they watched porn together.

This was not one of the contingencies Chantal or Frank or Mikey or _anyone_ had come up with for him. In fact, porn hadn't even entered the conversation. They'd mostly focused on getting him to talk to her. 

He said, "Oh," in what he hoped was an appropriate tone, and Lyn-Z laughed and looped her arm around his. "You are in for a treat," she promised. 

"Hooray," Gerard said, not sure whether he was internally freaking out because he was arm-in-arm with Lyn-Z or the fact that there was _zombie porn_ on the horizon.

"So," Lyn-Z said, "tell me more about your love of Glenn Danzig."

"Oh my god," Gerard said. "I'd prayed you'd forgotten that."

She laughed. "Sorry, sweetheart! But no one fucks up punk rock 101 like that and doesn't get teased for it."

"I was so nervous," he said, and wow, two true statements in a row. It felt strangely nice to actually talk to her, even though he knew he was only clinging to the conversation in an attempt to not think about the coming hour.

"I'm glad you're over that," Lyn-Z said. Gerard briefly wondered if she was maybe existing in a slightly different universe that happened to overlap with his own. It would explain how she managed to be so perfect, he thought. "Practice is more fun when you're there."

"Did you miss today's?" he asked. 

Lyn-Z rolled her eyes. "It started out a little shaky, but dude, we were fucking on there for a minute. And it was kind of nice to have girl talk. I usually have that with Steve, which isn't really the same." She paused. "Steve's one of my best friends. Him and Jimmy - you'll have to meet them. And Kitty, of course," she added, almost as an afterthought. 

Gerard chose to gloss over the sticky subject of Kitty. "It sounds like you're close," he said.

"Well, I'm not really one of the cool kids," Lyn-Z said. "We mostly hang out with each other because no one else wants to, but I fucking adore them."

"You are so a cool kid," Gerard insisted. "Way cooler than me."

Lyn-Z rolled her eyes. "Tell the losers at my school that," she said. "Or not, it's better that you've never been to that hellhole. But you have people you talk to, right?"

Gerard was trying to wrap his head around the idea that maybe Lyn-Z didn't realize how awesome she was. He tried to remember who she would know, and then just said, "Mostly just Chantal," because he couldn't say his brother or anyone. He realized after he said it that Lyn-Z definitely knew Chantal.

"Claret? She's rad," Lyn-Z said. "I didn't realize you knew her."

"She's how I heard about the band," Gerard said. He was really glad he'd come up with that elaborate backstory now. "I guess she does go to your school."

It turned out that he didn't like fibbing to Lyn-Z, something that might become problematic in his whole wooing plan. 

"Here we are!" Lyn-Z said, starting up a driveway of a house that was perfectly nondescript and normal and not at all what Gerard would have imagined for her. Granted, there weren't actually cool artsy lofts with blinking lights proclaiming how awesome its inhabitants were anywhere in town, but still, the fantasy was shattered. 

Gerard followed her up the driveway and inside through the garage, entering a kitchen where Lyn-Z opened a fridge and offered him something to drink while she tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Gerard tried not to be too creepy with reading the messages on the fridge while Lyn-Z pulled out cups and a bowl, and then cheerfully told him that she'd named the skeleton cookie jar "Ernest."

Lyn-Z's kitchen was alarmingly like his own. He felt comfortable grabbing the salt to add an extra dash to the popcorn, and Lyn-Z grinned as she came up with a handful of Twizzlers that she stuck jauntily in the center of the bowl.

Sodas in hand, he followed her in the living room, and then paused as she kept going through the house.

"Come on, there's a TV in my room," she said. "My mom always has to watch her shows in here."

"Okay," Gerard said, and obediently followed her down the hall into her bedroom. There he took a quick look around, set down the sodas and said, "Where's the bathroom?"

"Third door on the left," she said, digging through a messy pile of DVDs on her desk.

Gerard hurried to the bathroom, locked the door, pulled out his phone and called Frank.

"Dude, your brother is listening to "How Soon is Now" on repeat," Frank said crankily as soon as he answered.

"I am in Lyn-Z's bathroom," Gerard whispered. "She is waiting in her bedroom for me so we can watch a movie starring Jenna Jameson."

Frank repeated this information, and in the background the Smiths suddenly silenced. "Gerard, what did you do?"

"She spent the walk over here talking about how we were friends and how nice it was to have friends and oh my god, Frank, she thinks friends watch zombie porn together."

"Don't they?" Frank said.

"I mean, okay, I wouldn't have a problem watching zombie porn with you, but this is Lyn-Z we're talking about!" Gerard said. He sat down on the toilet and stared at the shower curtain. It was decorated with dancing Scotsmen. 

There was muffled noises as Frank and Mikey discussed the situation and Gerard grew increasingly antsy. Lyn-Z was waiting on him! She was in her bedroom with her Jack Skellington pillowcase and her Sonic Youth poster and a bunch of paintings and shit that Gerard had only gotten a glimpse of but had looked really cool and he was huddled in her bathroom in a skirt and uncomfortable boots.

A really cute skirt, he reminded himself, and stood - only wobbling a little, he was pretty much an expert at walking now - and checked himself in the mirror. His hair was sticking up a little awkwardly and he hastily reapplied his lip gloss, but overall he still looked girlish.

"So basically," Mikey's voice suddenly said in his ear, "You've got to be cool."

"That was all you could come up with?" Gerard asked.

"If you freak out, you're never going to get into her pants," Frank chimed in.

"Right now her pants are the least of my worries," Gerard lied.

"You should just rub one out now," Frank suggested. Mikey's voice, teenier and further away said, "I told you not to suggest that!"

"I am not jerking off in Lyn-Z's bathroom," Gerard hissed. 

"If you're gone for much longer she's gonna assume you are anyway," Frank said.

"Oh my god," Gerard said and hung up.

He hurried back to Lyn-Z's room, and when he pushed open the door hesitantly he saw her hastily putting down her phone. 

"I put the movie in," she said, motioning vaguely to the TV perched on her dresser. Half the drawers were open, spilling out t-shirts, socks and pants legs. Now that he was actually in the room he could tell it was just as trashed as his own. For some reason he found that comforting, like he'd have been even more awkwardly uncomfortable if Lyn-Z's room had looked like something in a movie or TV show, sterile and unrealistic.

"Um, awesome," he said.

She laughed and settled on the bed, holding the popcorn bowl. It was a twin bed pushed against the wall opposite the TV, and she pulled out two pillows and propped one on the wall behind her and one beside her. Gerard climbed onto her bed carefully, then remembered his boots and sprawled his legs out to unbuckle and unzip them. Lyn-Z watched him and he felt strangely conscious of every movement, especially how jerking at his boots hitched his skirt up uncomfortably high on his thighs.

He dropped the boots on the floor - he could see Lyn-Z's sneakers chucked on the floor near the door - and scooted back, carefully tugging his skirt to make sure that everything that needed to be covered was well under wraps. He took a deep breath and tried to figure out where he could put his hands that wouldn't be awkward. It was like he'd never had hands before, they were just _there_ and in the way and he finally let one rest on his leg and the other on Lyn-Z's comforter. 

"You're going to love this," she said again. She set the popcorn bowl between them, then she toyed with the remote. 

If Gerard didn't know better he would think she was nervous.

"I think horror movies could do a lot less to exploit women and continue the virgin-whore dichotomy," Gerard said more out of reflex than anything else. 

Lyn-Z rolled her eyes and said, "Don't be such a pussy."

That was not the response he usually got. 

"But," he started, but Lyn-Z shushed him and pressed play. Gerard tensed and wished that she'd taken him up on a conversation about feminism instead of turning on zombie porn, but he wasn't going to punk out now.

She seemed more relaxed once the movie was playing, which was the opposite of what Gerard felt, though he knew he couldn't escape off to the bathroom again so soon. So instead he looked around the room, but then he realized there were bras hanging on the back of the closet door and something dark and lacy sticking out of the laundry pile, and he glued his eyes to the television. 

He was in Lyn-Z's fucking bedroom, what the hell. He had no business being here.

Lyn-Z kept shifting beside him and he tried really hard to not let his hand slide closer to her when she did, and keep his eyes firmly on the television, and not think about anything untoward - like the fact that Lyn-Z might be wearing lacy underwear right now or that his ass was planted right where she slept at night. Any thoughts that flitted through his mind that would cause Mikey to roll his eyes or someone to announce that he was a creepo, he tried to shoot down. Mercilessly. With mental lasers. 

He focused instead on the zombie porn, which he slowly realized wasn't zombie porn at all, but a fucking hilarious movie that pretty much fit all his criteria for a perfect film. This didn't do a whole lot to make him less conscious of Lyn-Z's every movement, which didn't really surprise him. 

While on the screen a stripper swung around a pole, Lyn-Z shifted again and casually dropped her hand on the bed between them. There was scarcely an inch of red comforter between their pinkies. 

Gerard's other hand tightened nervously, bunching up his skirt a little. He left it crumpled that way when he forced himself to stop clutching his skirt. 

He should just sit there being _friendly_ but his hand scooted closer to hers almost of its own accord.

Then her hand moved, and their pinkies were touching.

Gerard's heart stopped beating. He didn't really know what to do because it felt like his entire being was solely focused in the strip of skin on the side of his pinkie that was in contact with hers. He glanced over quickly but her eyes were glued to the TV, lips parted slightly as she watched a newly zombified goth dance.

Gerard couldn't get over how it felt like the nerves in his hand were amplified a thousand fold, how his skin tingled and how warm she was. He tried to pay attention to the naked ladies on the screen instead of Lyn-Z's hand touching his own, but kept trying to steal glances of her, hoping to see some sort of reaction.

Right now it was still accidental touching in friendly territory. All he had to do to change that was to take her hand in his own.

They'd only been friends a day, really.

He kept his hand still.

He felt her hand move a little a few times but she didn't move any closer to giving him a sign that she was interested. No further away either, he told himself firmly, and hoping that this moment either ended soon or never ended, whichever would keep him closer to her. Slowly he managed to refocus on the movie instead of his entire universe hinging on the slightest of contact with her - even less than at practice, way less than last night, but its deliberateness and the setting making him extremely conscious of it - and he felt almost _relaxed_ , like this was where he was meant to be.

Lyn-Z leaned and grabbed popcorn with her other hand, leaving their their pinkies in contact with each other until she excitedly started waving her hands around when she started talking about one of the more ridiculous zombie theories in the movie, and Gerard was caught up enough in the conversation that he didn't even notice until a few minutes later.

The movie ended and they laughed a few minutes over their favorite parts, and then Gerard fidgeted awkwardly. He didn't want to leave, not ever, but he really should go before he fucked things up somehow.

He didn’t want to risk forgetting what common sense and Lyn-Z herself had both told him and end up grabbing her hand like he'd been dying to and kissing her, never mind that she still had a girlfriend. He'd totally explain to his mother that he was a hussy so long as he got to just kiss her. 

He was thinking maybe this wasn't such a crazy plan when Lyn-Z scooted off the bed and took the DVD out of the player. She fiddled with the box for a minute, and Gerard made his decision and got his boots, leaning awkwardly on the side of the bed to cram his feet back in them.

"I should probably go," he said. Frank had probably cheered Mikey up way better than Gerard could have - though probably at Gerard's expense - but still, he needed to check up on his brother. That totally wasn't an excuse to get him out of here before he did something he would regret when Lyn-Z wouldn't look at him anymore.

It was still so new that she was talking to him. He couldn't ruin that, not already.

"Yeah," Lyn-Z said. "I'm glad you came over."

"Me too," said Gerard. He stood up and straightened his skirt. He realized that he never tried to _act like a girl_ when he was around Lyn-Z. He didn't really act at all, but she still invited him over and accepted he was who he looked like.

He felt a little guilty about the whole falsely-wooing plan, but it wasn't like he was doing any actual wooing. He was just finally becoming her friend, and she was even more perfect than he had fantasized. He paused as she flicked on the light, and looked at the drawings that decorated the walls. They were stranger than the ones she presented in art class, less constrained and the faces far sadder.

"Did you draw all these?" he asked.

She nodded, then laughed. "Well, not those few," she said, motioning towards a couple of sheets of paper taped to the far wall. "Those are Jimmy's handiwork."

"Yours are really good," Gerard said. "They have personalities."

She beamed and came over to him. "That's the most interesting trait people have."

He was _not_ going to propose and/or take it that as a sign that his crazy plan could work. He wasn't.

"I really do have to go," he said regretfully.

Lyn-Z leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. "See you soon."

"Yeah. See... talk.. um, later," Gerard said and tried to remember how to use a doorknob. She had just _kissed him on the cheek_. A totally friendly gesture, but she had _kissed_ him.

He left, and in the exact opposite from the night before, it was the longest walk home _ever_.

*

"She kissed me on the cheek," Gerard announced as he barged into Mikey's room.

Frank paused his game. "Lyn-Z?"

"Yes!" Gerard said. "She kissed _me_. On the cheek, but, a kiss!"

"I can't believe that," Frank said. "Did you hallucinate this? What have I told you about psychedelics?"

"I didn't hallucinate anything," Gerard said, doubting it even as he said it. He then realized someone was missing. "Where's Mikey?"

"In the backyard with Patrick Stump," Frank said. 

That wouldn't have been any of Gerard's guesses. "Doing what?" 

"Getting the "What are your intentions with my best friend?" speech," Frank answered. "I eavesdropped for the first ten minutes or so, then it got really repetitive with lots of mentions of ripping hearts out and stomping on them. Though most of them were threats about what Patrick would do to Mikey." Frank paused then added approvingly, "I didn't realize that kid was so violent."

"I should go down there," Gerard said. 

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Like that?"

Gerard remembered he was still dressed as Gee. "Oh yeah."

Frank snickered and threw him a controller. "You can play _Left 4 Dead_ with me while Mikey gets lectured."

Gerard flopped beside him and pried off his boots again. "Alright." Patrick was tiny. Surely Mikey could manage to keep away from him if Patrick decided to go through with his threats. 

"Enjoy your zombie porn?" Frank asked, fighting off zombies.

"It turned out it wasn't zombie porn," Gerard said. "It was a movie about zombie strippers."

"No fucking way," Frank said. "Dude, she likes movies about zombie strippers?"

"Awesome movies about zombie strippers," Gerard corrected. "Dude, she had all her kickass art on her walls and _From Hell_ on her bookshelf and she told me I was a pussy when I tried to tell her about how horror movies are exploitative to women."

"So you managed to actually talk to her?" Frank said. 

"I talked to her and we sat next to each other on her goddamn _bed_ for two _hours_ and our hands touched and then she kissed me on the cheek when I was leaving," Gerard said. "It was the most fucking amazing night ever."

"And to think, some people want _more_ than a peck on the cheek," Frank said, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he jabbed at the buttons. "Motherfucker!"

Gerard flicked Frank in the head before Frank started with his giggle of assholish mirth that Gerard hated so much, then resumed playing, failing pretty spectacularly but not really caring because every other thought through his head revolved around Lyn-Z and the feel of her lips on his cheek. 

Mikey stalked into the room, looking crankier than he had when Gerard had left earlier, but also more animated. "I cannot believe I just got a fucking lecture about breaking Pete Wentz's stupid fucking heart," he said, waving his hands around.

Gerard and Frank both stared.

"He acted like it was _my_ fault that Pete's a stupidhead!" Mikey continued.

Frank started to snicker. "Stupidhead?"

Mikey flipped Frank off and kept ranting. "It is _not_ my fault. It is Pete's fault. Pete's the one who's freaking out. I am completely fucking cool with the situation. But who gets tiny angry choirboys at their house yelling about being insensitive and goddamn broken hearts?"

Gerard blinked. "Mikey, you're freaking out a little. I mean. You're still waving your arms around."

Mikey lowered his arms abruptly.

"So Pete's best friend showed up and asked you what your intentions are and then yelled at you for breaking his heart," Frank said.

"God, Mikey, you didn't say something stupid, did you?" Gerard said.

"No, just the truth," Mikey said. "That I don't ever want to see Pete Wentz's stupid face ever again."

"Okay, you know we're not members of Pete's fan club," Frank said. "But aren't you maybe overreacting?"

"He didn't say, 'Hey, I can't do this, sorry,' he fucking kicked me out of his car half-naked," Mikey said. "And he's ashamed to be seen with me. He isn't that fucking cool."

Gerard took a deep breath, not quite believing what he was about to say, but he remembered how frustrated and down Alicia was. “Maybe he has reasons?"

"I am not listening to someone who is currently wearing a skirt so that he has a chance with a lesbian," Mikey grumbled, but he looked significantly less irate.

"She totally kissed me on the cheek!" Gerard couldn't help sharing.

"Seriously? Did you trick her into it?" Mikey asked. He looked a little more chipper now that he had someone else's romantic catastrophe to concentrate on.

"No," Gerard said, sticking out his tongue. "Her own free will."

"Her friendly free will," Frank clarified. "Gerard had the opportunity to make a move and didn't."

"Gee!" Mikey said. "What the hell?"

"I didn't want to ruin our friendship!" Gerard explained.

"It's too easy to tell you you're such a girl right now," Frank said, flicking Gerard's skirt. 

"And the whole point is to make sure you _aren't_ just her friend," Mikey said. "Otherwise you could talk to her at, you know, school. Wearing pants."

"Pants are overrated," Gerard said. "I just don't want to fuck this up."

"Like I did?" Mikey said. "I don't blame you."

Frank threw his controller down. "Seriously, if you two want to cry in your pillows, I can leave."

"Easy for you to be smug," Mikey said.

"Hey, you've got a nice girlfriend," Frank retorted. "Not my fault you're rushing a skittish ass-virgin to boot."

Mikey flushed and Gerard snickered. Mikey threw an Aquaman action figure at him, and Gerard attempted to bat it away but missed and it hit him in the nose.

"At least I've tried," Mikey told Gerard, who was rubbing his nose.

Gerard set Aquaman down beside him and scowled at his brother. "At least Lyn-Z's talking to me."

"At least I don't have a fucking Aquaman action figure," Frank told them both, making Aquaman swim through the air. "Oooh, I talk to fish and rule an imaginary city of sea creatures, and somehow that qualifies me to fight crime and join the goddamn Justice League. Totally badass."

"Aquaman can be totally interesting with the right writer and slant," Mikey said defensively.

"Yeah. And the goddamn Batman called him up to help move the giant penny," Gerard said. "You can't argue with Batman's character judgment."

"Yeah, I have no clue why you don't have a girlfriend," Frank told Gerard.

"Don't even pretend like you don't see my point," Gerard said.

"But the difference is I'm awesome and irresistible," Frank said. 

Mikey yawned. "Go bicker in the basement. I'm going to bed."

Gerard and Frank both refused to move. 

"You're going to do something stupid," Frank declared.

"Hard to do that in bed alone," Mikey replied.

"Not with that phone it's not," Gerard said. He tugged Mikey's Teen Titans blanket around him and settled in more comfortably.

"Can you just decide what you want me to do already?" Mikey said crankily. "Don't talk to Pete, talk to him, that's a stupid idea, not doing anything is a stupid idea... It's fucking confusing."

"I know," Gerard said. Mikey climbed up next to him and Gerard shared the blanket, even though Mikey's toes were really cold even through his clammy sock.

"Hey, how about we kill things?" Frank said, waving his controller around.

Gerard offered his controller to Mikey, and tried to concentrate on critiquing their playing instead of everything that had happened that day.

His phone buzzed. He had a new message from Mary Jane Watson: _i like when you’re here too._

He fell asleep on Mikey's bed tangled up in the Teen Titan blanket and his own skirt with the phone clutched in his hand and a smile still on his face.

*

Gerard didn't think anything of it when Mikey didn't join them for lunch on Monday. 

Ray was regaling them with the story of how Dewees got him kicked out of his third-favorite restaurant after the manager had caught him filling the napkin dispenser with salt while Bob nodded along and Frank offered suggestions of what they could have told the manager instead of meekly filing out of the place and then bitching about it for the rest of the way home. Gerard picked at his lunch and tried to not look around too much or check his phone again hoping for a new message.

He'd updated Ray and Bob on the story - rather, Frank had kept adding details like zombie porn and Gerard's complete lack of game - and neither seemed to really understand how _amazing_ it was that Lyn-Z had kissed him on the cheek.

"Dude, she put you in the friend box," Bob had said. "That's nothing to celebrate."

"It is!" Gerard insisted. "We talk and things are amazing."

"Couldn't you be her friend like, now?" Ray asked skeptically. "I thought the whole girl-plan was so you could be more than friends."

"Fuck off," Gerard said, sick of hearing that point already. 

Frank and Bob exchanged glances and started snickering. Gerard hated them all. They Ray sat up straighter and said, "What's Mikey doing?'

Gerard twisted in his chair to see his brother standing awkwardly next to the table filled with soccer players, who were currently still ignoring him. Well, mostly - even from across the cafeteria Gerard could see that Pete was staring at Mikey with a vaguely horrified expression.

"What the hell, Pete?" Mikey demanded.

Pete glanced around at his teammates. They seemed moderately interested in what was happening. "Um. What the hell to _you_ ," Pete said nervously.

Mikey seemed to be shaking around a note."I don't think this is funny."

"Me either," Pete said. "I mean, what's that?"

Mikey glared. "You know perfectly fucking well what it is."

"Is Mikey about to out Pete in front of the whole school?" Ray whispered. "That shit isn't cool."

Gerard very much agreed. "Surely not," he said. "He remembers, you know, that thing Bert did."

"I don't think he's thinking very clearly right now," Bob pointed out. "I wonder what that note says."

Gerard glanced around. Most of the cafeteria was unconcerned with the spectacle Mikey Way and Pete Wentz were about to make, but he saw Gabe Saporta and his friends watching avidly, along with a couple tables of freshmen. And, he noticed with a weird twinge, Lyn-Z and her friends.

"What, is that note from your girlfriend?" Pete said, looking more uneasy than pissed. "Saying how I fucked her?"

There were a few approving chuckles from the jock tables, but Gerard was mostly concerned about his brother, whose expression was blank and body very still. "No," Mikey said. "It isn't from anyone I care about."

"I--" Pete started, but Mikey turned away. "Mikey, dammit, you know I meant what I fucking said!"

Mikey turned long enough to say, "And so did I." He walked quickly away from the table, ignoring the roll one of the jocks threw at him that bounced off his shoulder, and Gerard kind of wanted to beat Pete's face into the table for making his brother look that fucking sad.

Gerard went after his brother, chasing him through the halls until they finally ended up in the library. Mikey slumped down on a chair hidden in the stacks and let the note fall out of his hand as he said, "I shouldn't have gone to him there."

"He shouldn't be such an ass," Gerard said. "Who's the note from?"

"Pete," Mikey said. "It doesn't make any fucking sense. I think it's a poem or something. I think he meant it to show how fucked-up I make him."

Gerard gingerly picked up the paper and folded it back up, matching the creases until it was a tiny tight triangle with 'Mikey' written in block letters on either side. He didn't read what it said. "He might have meant it as a compliment," Gerard offered, not quite believing he was really defending Pete Wentz's obscure intentions to his upset brother.

"Doesn't matter," Mikey said. "He shouldn't have said that about Alicia."

No matter how true it might be, Gerard thought. "I think Frank went to go piss in his locker," he offered.

Mikey grinned weakly. "Serves him right," he said, which was so far from his reaction a few days earlier that Gerard wondered what else the note had said. He twisted it in his hands and then tucked it into Mikey's blazer pocket. 

"Wanna skip class and go to the comic book store?" Gerard asked. 

Mikey considered it, then shook his head. "Can't. I've got a test." 

He stuck his hand in his pocket, and Gerard could tell he was fiddling with the note. 

"Then at least talk to Alicia," Gerard said. He hadn't told Mikey how upset Alicia had been at practice, but he figured this was the least he could do. 

"Yeah, okay," Mikey said. A bell rang, and Gerard stood up reluctantly. "Seriously, we can skip."

"I'm not going to let him drive me away," Mikey said. "Especially with his bullshit about needing to be accepted by those dumbasses."

Gerard didn’t really need to know more about Pete Wentz, but he couldn't help it. "Why does he need them?"

Mikey shrugged. "He says something about his parents or some shit like that. Patrick, though, he said that it's because Pete's fragile. I don't believe that."

Gerard thought that Mikey did believe that. "Then why doesn't he hang out with them instead? Patrick and them."

"Guess they're not cool enough," Mikey said. "Like me."

"You're cooler than all those fuckers," Gerard said.

"Go to class, asshole," Mikey replied. Gerard ignored Mikey’s eye roll as he gave him a hug, He managed to _not_ ruffle Mikey’s hair, which he considered a win, before going to class.

Art class was by far the most stressful in Gerard's schedule, and today it was even worse than usual. For one thing, Lyn-Z was already there when he walked in, and she looked at him when he sat down. He kept his eyes averted because, fuck, what if she recognized him? It wasn't like he looked all that different in a skirt than he did in his wrinkled school uniform. 

Lyn-Z didn't say anything, though, and after a moment Gerard relaxed. He caught Chantal's eye as she went to the supply cabinet, and she raised her eyebrows in a way that made Gerard nervous all over again.

Dewees slunk into class five minutes late, something that Mr. Armstrong seemed to deem too minor to mention, and when he sat down next to Gerard he hissed, "Everyone's talking about your brother."

"It happened fifteen minutes ago," Gerard hissed back, knowing full well that high school gossip spread faster than herpes.

Dewees gave him a look, and then obediently opened his sketchbook and began to draw a stick-figure interpretation of the statue Mr. Armstrong had placed in the center of the room for inspiration.

Things went relatively smoothly for a few minutes, and then he heard Steve say in a loud whisper, "Walking off after Wentz said that was a pretty pussy move, you gotta admit," to Lyn-Z.

Lyn-Z crinkled her brow, but Gerard couldn't help saying something first. "Hey, he's my fucking brother. Don't fucking talk shit about him where I can hear you."

Lyn-Z looked taken aback, Steve raised an eyebrow and made a catty hand motion, and Dewees hissed, "Gerard, chill."

“What’re you gonna do, scowl at me and draw a mean picture?” Steve asked. “Come on.”

Lyn-Z whacked Steve’s arm and said, “Steve, shut the fuck up.”

He gave her an unreadable look and said, “No, Lyn-Z, you have no reason to play the white knight. Not for them.”

Gerard usually confined his fits of anger to throwing shit around his room and drawing things that involved a lot of fierce line work, but he couldn’t help remembering how cathartic singing had been and suddenly couldn’t keep his mouth shut, never mind that Lyn-Z was _right there_ and casting him sideways glances and looking for all the world as though Steve were doing this as an unwanted personal favor for her. “Say what the fuck you want about me, but not my brother.”

He was used to it, yeah, but he wasn’t used to hearing it about Mikey.

“Not my fault you both can’t seem to keep your boy troubles under control,” Steve said, and Gerard saw Lyn-Z bury her head in her hands like she was horrified or disgusted. 

Gerard was dimly aware that the rest of the class was watching - Gabe Saporta was standing, hand loose on the back of his chair, and Gerard knew he had backup if things went too far - and that Mr. Armstrong had come out of his office.

“I’m surprised you can talk with your head up your ass like that,” Gerard retorted, and he heard his classmates’ halfhearted dismay as Mr. Armstrong declared that they all four - Dewees and Lyn-Z due to proximity - had detention for the next two weeks for their ‘prelude to a fight, and don’t pretend like that wasn’t where all that trash talk was going, mister.”

“What the hell,” Gerard said as Mr. Armstrong disappeared in his office again to write out the detention slips.

“We caught him in his only bad mood ever,” Dewees said. “Crap on a stick, I don’t want detention.”

Gerard thought of being locked in a small room with Lyn-Z every afternoon. There was no fucking way she would fail to put two and two together and his cover would be fucking blown. “Motherfuck,” he grumbled.

“Don’t be such whiny bitches,” Steve said. 

Lyn-Z threw a bit of eraser at him. “Just because you have a favorite chair in detention doesn’t mean that we all want to spend our fucking afternoons here, dumbass. I have shit to do.”

“Shit or a rocker chick?” Steve asked. Gerard managed to not choke on his own tongue when Lyn-Z just rolled her eyes and said, “See if I tell you anything ever again.”

Mr. Armstrong returned to present them all with detention slips, and Gerard did his best to not look at Lyn-Z as he took his.

*

“I got fucking detention,” Gerard said after school, flailing his arms and looking despairingly at Frank and Mikey and Bob.

“And?” Frank said.

“So did Lyn-Z!” 

Mikey stared. “Seriously? I get shit in front of the whole school, and you’re bitching about detention?”

“I got detention defending your dumb ass,” Gerard said crankily. “And she’ll know who I am!”

“Planning on changing into something more comfortable for detention?” Bob asked.

“You could just drop out as Gerard and re-enroll as Gee Way, your own long lost twin,” Frank said. “Then you could have hot girl-on-girl action in the cafeteria and make everyone forget about Mikey’s disaster.”

“I think we’re blowing my disaster out of proportion,” Mikey said. “It will not take lesbian action to resolve, unlike Gerard’s disaster.”

“Just dude-love,” Frank said cheerfully.

“And Steve implied that Lyn-Z likes a rocker chick,” Gerard said, wringing his hands. “What if he was talking about Kitty? Then I’m fucked.”

“Or not, as the case may be,” Bob said.

“If you got detention, shouldn’t you be there right now?” Mikey asked.

“You are too fucking cheerful,” Gerard said suspiciously. “Weren’t you about to start your own emo death cult two hours ago?”

Mikey shrugged. “I talked to Alicia.”

“And she has more sense than you do?” Bob said.

Mikey half-smiled. “Pretty much.”

“That means she took your side, right?” Frank said. “Unlike your brother, who keeps projecting his own crazy issues.”

“I don’t project,” Gerard replied. 

“She totally took my side,” Mikey said. “She’s gonna find Pete after school.”

“Yeah, I hope the soccer team sees that,” Bob said. “That’ll put those rumors right to rest.”

“The soccer team is not the problem,” Mikey said. “The problem is Pete and his stupid stupidness.”

Gerard shrugged and said, “Makes sense.”

“You know if you’re late for detention they make you sit in the study correls, right?” Franks said. “An hour of that and you’ll be going insane.”

“And I won’t have to talk to Lyn-Z,” Gerard said cheerily.

“This isn’t the goddamn _Breakfast Club_ ,” Frank said. “Detention isn’t exactly ‘confess your darkest fears and secrets hour.’”

“I’ve had detention before, thanks,” Gerard said snippily. “I just don’t want to risk anything. Class is bad enough.”

“I can’t believe she thinks she’s friends with your looney tunes ass,” Frank said. Mikey snorted.

“I can’t believe she’s actually going to go for him,” Bob said. 

“You think so?” Gerard said hopefully.

“You don’t call a drummer like Kitty a ‘rocker chick,’” Bob pointed out. “That’s something you call one of the guitar players or the lead singer.”

“A bit of a stretch,” Mikey judged.

“Though if it isn’t, Gee is going to have some very steamy stories to tell us,” Frank added.

“Not too steamy,” Gerard pointed out. “There are other issues here.”

“Not much of an issue,” Mikey said pointedly, slightly evil smirk on his lips.

“That must be genetic,” Frank said, happily hiding his head in his arms to miss the worst of the flailing waving-arm Way attack he promptly received. 

Reluctantly Gerard realized he should probably actually go to detention, and made his way there.

"Mr. Way, kind of you to grace us with your presence," snarked the librarian when he showed up. "You know the drill."

Across the room, settled at a table with Max Bemis, who appeared to be drawing giant purple spirals in magic marker on various pages of his algebra book, Dewees gave him a thumbs-down.

"Yeah, yeah," Gerard said and slunk to one of the empty study correls, dumping his bag beside his chair. He spotted Lyn-Z and Steve and Jimmy sitting at a table nearby, but figured that he would be well-enough hid from view where he was. He took out his homework and was just trying to remember if he was supposed to be reading page 237 or 372 when he heard the door open again and swing shut heavily. 

"Mr. Wentz, you're late," he heard the librarian announce much more sternly than she'd addressed Gerard. "Go to one of the study correls and work quietly."

"Okay," Pete mumbled. 

Because Gerard was the luckiest person in the universe, he wasn't even surprised when Pete slumped down in the correl next to his. Gerard stared at his book and pretended like Pete wasn't there. 

Unfortunately, it seemed like Pete had actually chosen to sit next to him on _purpose_ , as a few minutes later a folded up piece of paper landed on his book. Gerard brushed it aside and tried to focus on a paragraph about the Korean War, but the mystery contents of the note proved more interesting.

He unfolded the note, and almost choked on laughter.

 _teach me to be gay_ followed by boxes marked yes and no.

Gerard drew a third box, labeled it 'completely inappropriate,' and checked it. After a second's deliberation he sketched out a tiny hand flipping a bird next to that, and then folded it back up and tossed it over the correl wall to Pete.

Several minutes passed, and then the note dropped down on his book again. Pete's cramped tiny handwriting read, _dont you want your brother to be happy?_

Gerard hissed, "Fuck you," hoping that Pete could hear him.

Judging from the way Pete scooted his chair back and peered around the divider at Gerard, he did. Gerard glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention. 

"I'm asking for your fucking help," Pete whispered. 

"I can't teach you how to be gay," Gerard replied. "Especially not for my brother."

"I just want to know, like, the etiquette," Pete said. "And how to be cool with putting someone's dick in your mouth. Because that's where I get hung up. Not to mention the butt stuff - isn't that shit gross?"

"Please stop asking me about this," Gerard said, trying valiantly to banish the mental images that Pete's questions gave him. "I can't help you."

"You know Mikey better than anyone," Pete said. "Come on."

"Maybe you should ask Gabe," Gerard suggested. "Isn't he actually your friend?"

Gerard could swear that Pete was blushing. Detention wasn't _The Breakfast Club_ , his ass.

"Come on, I'm fucking things up and I might not be able to fix them in time," Pete said. Gerard wondered when the fuck he became the sort of person people came to for love advice. 

"There's nothing I can say," Gerard hissed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lyn-Z flipping idly through a book, looking in his direction. "If you really like him in a more than friendly way then it shouldn't be a problem."

"But it _is_ ," Pete said. 

"Then you don't actually _want_ him," Gerard said.

"But I can't fucking _sleep_ , thinking about him and his stupid glasses and wanting to lick his jaw and push him against a wall somewhere," Pete said, "Trust me, I _want_ Mikey. I just don't want, you know. Gay porn shit."

Gerard closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Then just do what you want with him, not what you think gay people do," he said, trying to will the conversation to end. "I don't think he's expecting you to rim him on a first date." Gerard hoped, anyway. 

Pete looked thoughtful, and Gerard used that opportunity to scoot back into his correl and try to concentrate on his homework and avoid giving out any more gay sex advice. 

"But what if I want to blow him?" Pete whispered, and Gerard resisted the urge to bang his head into his book.

"Go practice on yourself," Gerard hissed, and then he heard a familiar giggle coming from the table Lyn-Z was sitting at.

This time he did thump his head against his book and stayed there until detention was over.

*

"I take back anything pro-Wentz I might have said," Gerard announced as he squished himself into a booth that already contained Mikey, Frank, Bob and Ray. Dewees stole a chair from a nearby table and sat in it backwards, crossing his arms and resting them on the back as he snickered.

"What the hell could have possibly happened in _detention_?" Ray wondered.

"It turned into the fucking _Breakfast Club_ only worse," Gerard said, glaring pointedly at Frank. 

"It was the most fucking entertaining thing ever," Dewees said.

"Pete Wentz is not my friend," Gerard said to Mikey. "He should not be talking to me. He definitely should not be talking to me about his hopes and fears concerning _gay sex_ with my _brother_."

"He had hopes?" Mikey said. Frank snorted and cherry Coke sprayed across the table, and Ray mouthed, "hopes and fears?" silently.

"Not the point, Mikey!" Gerard said. He tried to do a wavy hand motion to represent the level of horror the experience had inspired in him. "He passed me a _note_. A check-yes-or-no note about _teaching him to be gay_."

Gerard was mildly concerned that Frank's laughing fit had turned into some sort of asthmatic seizure, and Bob and Ray weren't faring too much better. Even Mikey was grinning.

"Did you check yes?" Bob asked.

"No!" Gerard said. "I told him it was totally inappropriate!"

"Then did you slap his hand with a ruler?" Frank asked.

"Fuck off," Gerard replied, then vindictively stole a bite of Frank's veggie burger.

"It was the best part of detention," Dewees said cheerily. "Gerard offered very earnest advice then suggested Pete go blow himself for practice. It almost made up for the fact that I had to sit with Bemis. That fucker isn't quite right, you know."

"I would happily sit with Bemis every day if it meant no Wentz ever again," Gerard said.

"Yeah, but you _like_ Bemis," Ray said. "You unstable types get along."

" _We_ get along," Gerard reminded him.

"Pete seriously talked to you?" Mikey said, waving his hand and clearly trying to steer the conversation back to persons of actual interest to him.

"I am not repeating any of it," Gerard said.

"Pete wants to lick your jaw," Dewees added. "Good thing the only people in detention were art kid losers, otherwise Pete would have some 'splainin' to do."

Frank stopped snickering long enough to ask, "He told you in detail what he wanted to _do_ to Mikey?"

"It was awful," Gerard said. And, possibly belatedly, he added, "And why did he decide I was the one to go to with his gay dilemma?"

"Who else would he go to?" Dewees pointed out.

"I suggested Gabe," Gerard said, "but he could have picked Beckett or that freshman with the rose vest or pretty much anyone who isn't _me_."

"I heard that freshman wasn't gay," Ray said, and Gerard glared at him. "Oh. Right."

"It makes Pete-sense to go to you," Mikey said. 

"Is that like a fucked up version of Spideysense?" Bob asked.

"When the fuck did you start finding Pete-sense endearing again?" Gerard said.

"About the time he asked my brother for sex advice," Mikey said. He was actually smiling. "Also Alicia read the note and pointed out some shit I didn't notice."

"Hey, how come Alicia never hangs out with us?" Ray asked. 

"We're not cool enough," Frank informed him. "Mikey's ashamed of us."

Mikey threw a french fry at Frank. "She's just busy. With other stuff."

"Uh-huh," Dewees said. 

"Like getting her band a gig," Mikey said, shooting a mischievous look in Gerard's direction.

"What?" squeaked Gerard.

"Alicia's in a band?" Dewees said.

"Gerard's in it," Ray informed him.

"Ray!" Gerard's voice appeared to be stuck in squeak-mode. That hadn't happened since eighth grade.

"Cool!" Dewees said. "What kind of band is it?"

"An all-girl punk Dolly Parton cover band," Frank said.

None of Gerard's friends cared about him. He was a laughingstock. 

Dewees raised an eyebrow. "I know Gerard's not the most masculine sort of fellow, but..."

"He dresses in drag. No one in the band knows he's a boy," Bob said. 

Dewees looked thoughtfully at Gerard. "I bet you're a hot girl," he said.

"He totally is," piped up Frank. "If only we could get him a little less Amish about his hemlines."

Gerard looked around to make sure no one was within hearing range. There was just a slightly annoyed looking family of four, though Gerard couldn't tell if it was his cross-dressing shenanigans or the youngest kid's ice cream splattering party that had the mother looking so pinched and disapproving.

"I'm glad we've decided to just share with everyone," Gerard grumbled.

"Ma taught you better manners than that," Mikey said. "What do ladies say to compliments?"

Gerard was definitely going to do something terrible to Mikey later on, like hide his flatiron. He stuck his tongue out and said, "Gig?"

"Alicia thinks she can get a gig at a party or something," Mikey said. "Through someone she knows."

Gerard paled. The thought of getting up and singing in front of a bunch of people - even drunk not-paying-attention people - was more than a little terrifying. It didn't even fucking matter that no one would know who he was. 

"That's great!" Dewees said. "Nothing like getting up in front of people."

Life had been so much easier a few weeks ago. Gerard missed that.


	4. Chapter 4

Gerard and Mikey were almost home when he got a text from Lyn-Z asking him to come hang out with her.

Gerard beamed and they hurried the rest of the way so he could get dressed. However, when they got to the house Patrick Stump was standing on their porch.

"Not again," Mikey groaned. "Gee, hide me."

"Where, in my hoodie?" Gerard asked. "You're going to have to get rid of him. I have to get dressed and go hang out with Lyn-Z."

"Fuck Lyn-Z!" Mikey said. "I can't deal with this anymore. I'm going to go hide in your basement."

Patrick spotted them before Mikey could sneak off, so they slunk onto their porch.

"What the hell?" demanded Patrick.

Mikey raised an eyebrow.

"I saw what you pulled at lunch," Patrick continued.

"And yet you didn't do anything," Gerard said. Patrick ignored him.

"You can't push him like that," Patrick said, glaring up at Mikey from under his hat brim. "Especially not in front of the soccer team."

"Fuck the soccer team," Mikey said. "I didn't fucking say anything in front of them. I just wanted to talk to Pete about that note he gave me but he kept avoiding me."

"So you confronted him in front of the soccer team? They'd kick his ass if they knew what's going on with you two," Patrick said.

Mikey and Gerard both gave him unimpressed looks. 

"I just won't let Pete get hurt again," Patrick said. "You know he throws himself into things with all his heart and he doesn't hold enough back to keep himself safe."

"I don't know that," Mikey said levelly. "I don't know a lot of things about Pete. But I'm willing to find out, and I know that it's none of your business."

Gerard wasn't used to his brother being so... proactive. And he also figured Patrick hadn't talked to Pete since lunch. He figured now wasn't a great time to tell Patrick that his best friend seemed to be planning on going ahead with the course of action that would lead to ass-kickings.

And broken hearts, but he didn't want to dwell on that too much. 

"He's my best friend!" Patrick said. "Of course it's my business."

Gerard decided it was a good time to escape into the house. He scurried past the living room, where his mother called out, "What's this I hear about detention?" 

"It's nothing!" he replied before managing to get to his basement. 

He dug an outfit out of the laundry basket he had relegated all his 'Gee' clothes to, jerking it on and nearly busting his head open on his desk when he tripped trying to pull tights on as quickly as possible. He checked his phone again when he started brushing his hair vigorously and there was a new message from Lyn-Z asking where they should pick him up at. 

"Fuck-a-doodle," he swore, and spent a few minutes panicking before deciding to call Chantal. At the very least he could maybe help her out with getting closer to Jimmy.

"What do you need? I know you don't need bitch-fight pointers," she said gleefully when he asked for help.

"I need Lyn-Z to pick me up at your house," he said. "She can't come here. It says Way all over the fucking place."

"Ain't that the truth," Chantal agreed. 

"Well?" 

"Come on over," Chantal said. "Finally I get ringside seats to this trainwreck."

Gerard hung up on her. He fixed his hair. It was almost long enough for pigtails, he noticed, and wondered if it was weird or copycat-y to try those out when he knew he was going to spend time with Lyn-Z, who had made pigtails part of her _look_ at school. He spent enough time on his eyeliner to make sure it looked decent - he was pretty sure that it was one of the main factors in Lyn-Z seeing him as a girl and not the overly defensive weirdo from art class - and was halfway up the stairs before remembering that Patrick Stump was on the porch.

His basement door would take him to the front of the house, so he had no choice but to continue upstairs and sneak out the back door.

He was got as far as the kitchen when his mother appeared in the doorway and said, "Good to see you're not just a Friday night girl."

He nearly jumped out of his skin. "Ma! You scared me to death."

"What are you sneaking around the back way for?" she asked, crossing her arms in a way that meant he had to answer pronto.

"Because I didn't want Patrick to see me," he said truthfully.

"And how'd you get two weeks detention? The school called me, you know."

"For yelling at a kid who was trash-talking Mikey," Gerard said.

"Make your move on that girl of yours yet?" she asked.

Gerard turned red. "No."

"Why the hell not? She'd be an idiot to turn you down," his mother continued. "Look at how pretty you are!"

Gerard wanted to sink through the floor. "I should go," he said just as Mikey and Patrick walked into the kitchen.

"What's for dinner?" Mikey said, then caught sight of Gerard, who was glaring as hard as he could.

"Um, hi," Patrick said.

"I just came over for that cord Alicia forgot over here," Gerard said quickly, ignoring his mother's bemused expression. "Thanks."

He fled the kitchen. As he hurried for the front door he could hear Patrick asking, "Who was that?"

"Crap, crap, crap," he muttered, but didn't have time to worry about Patrick Stump realizing who he was too. He practically ran the entire way to Chantal's. 

She let him in and raised an eyebrow. "You look like crap."

"It's been a very stressful day," he said. "Lyn-Z's supposed to be here in ten minutes."

"Just enough time to fix you up," Chantal said. "Seriously, you look like you lost a bet with a rat and it got to make its nest on your head."

Chantal did... something... to his head with a brush and a hair clip and when she was done he looked pretty fabulous. He settled on her couch - only remembering to sit properly after he'd inadvertently flashed her dog - and twiddled his thumbs until Chantal sighed and said, "I'm gonna play DDR until she gets here."

Then Gerard was left alone on the couch twiddling his thumbs while Chantal broke out some sweet dance moves.

The doorbell rang, and Gerard nearly bolted out the back door. He hadn't reminded Chantal of the backstory at all! He'd just sat on his ass and now Chantal was going to forget everything and he would be found out before he even had a chance to kiss Lyn-Z.

Chantal went and answered the door, and Gerard darted after her. He got to see Chantal's eyes widen as she hid behind the door, hand pressed over her mouth, when she caught sight of Jimmy Urine through the window.

She pulled her hand away from her mouth long enough to mouth, "What's he doing here?"

Then she clamped it over her mouth again. Gerard couldn't tell if she was trying to not puke or to keep herself from making an inappropriate sound. 

He could see Jimmy looking at him through the window, and then Lyn-Z's head peeked in view and she waved. He smiled and made a 'one second' motion, then hurriedly sat down next to Chantal before he could see Lyn-Z's puzzled face and opened the door with Chantal having a freakout right there in the entrance.

"I can't open the door!" Chantal hissed. "Look at me!"

Her hair was admittedly a little larger than was normal on humans and she was wearing athletic shorts and knee socks, but Gerard really didn't think Jimmy Urine, who often had his own hair spiked into shapes atypical on humans, would really pass judgment.

"You look fine, except for how they're going to think you've gone off your rocker if we don't answer the door soon," Gerard pointed out. Maybe this was what it was like for others to deal with him. 

"But what the hell is he doing on my front porch?"

"He's probably just giving Lyn-Z a ride," Gerard said, hauling Chantal to her feet. 

Chantal gave him a skeptical look and then opened the door, smiling brightly at Lyn-Z and Jimmy. "Hi!"

Gerard wished that he could just magically flip a switch like that and go from freaking out to friendly in half a second.

"Hey," Lyn-Z said, stepping inside. "This is Jimmy. Jimmy, Gee." 

Gerard half-waved and Chantal said, "Hi! Welcome to my house."

Lyn-Z grinned. "I hope we aren't interrupting."

"Just some DDR," Chantal said. "Well, _I_ was playing DDR. _Someone_ 's a fuddyduddy."

"Hey, first of all, you didn't even offer to share," Gerard protested. "And I'm not good at it anyway."

"Can't dance?" Jimmy said.

"I can dance," Gerard said. "I just don't like my dancing so structured."

Chantal rolled her eyes. "That means your feet stay planted to the floor like you're an oak tree."

"It's all in the hips!" Gerard argued, then immediately regretted it. He didn't want Lyn-Z thinking about his boy hips.

But Lyn-Z just laughed and exchanged a look with Jimmy.

"Want to hang out here?" Gerard asked, suddenly unsure about being left alone with Lyn-Z and Jimmy. "Chantal can probably be convinced to share the dance pad."

"I didn't have anything really planned," Lyn-Z said, and they went to the living room, Chantal shooting Gerard an alarmed look on the way.

He shrugged; Chantal acted completely normal around Jimmy, which was more than Gerard could say. Chantal went back to the game and Jimmy leaned against the arm of the loveseat, watching critically. 

Gerard sat on the cushion he'd already decided was _his_ and Lyn-Z settled beside him. He realized that this had happened enough for it to feel normal, as though she were a real person sitting next to him instead of a terrifyingly realistic fantasy.

Chantal started her game on easy, but still managed to misstep within the first minute. Gerard had seen her flawlessly get through an expert routine not ten minutes ago, so maybe she wasn't as calm as she was acting.

"Way to forge your own path through the wilds of choreography," Jimmy said, “I think your bazoombas are knocking you off-rhythm.”

Chantal flushed. Gerard waited for one of her usual outlandish comments about her boobs, but instead she just made an annoyed sound at Jimmy.

If he were capable of it, he would say something to Jimmy about now, but quite frankly Gerard was not quite as cool with Lyn-Z being _right there_ as he'd hoped. At least, his brain didn't seem to be functioning as quickly as it had been before she was there.

"Like you can do any better, beanpole," Chantal finally said, stepping off the dance pad and doing a Vanna White motion towards it.

Jimmy stepped up and Lyn-Z said, "Hey, now, let's not have a repeat of the Great Arcade Disaster."

"There's not a slurpee machine in sight!" Jimmy replied.

Lyn-Z leaned in and said in a stage whisper, "Jimmy learned the hard way that Big Gulp Slurpees and bouncing do not necessarily go well together."

Chantal laughed and said, "You're empty, right? Because you get to clean up any messes you make."

"This growing boy's belly has its vacancy light on," Jimmy replied. "Someone was too scared of being late to let me stop and buy a happy meal."

Lyn-Z rolled her eyes and said, "He just wanted the toy."

"Little plastic robots that don't move like they're supposed to kick motherfucking ass," Jimmy said.

"I got the yellow one," Chantal offered cheerily. 

Jimmy started a wildly exaggerated but surprisingly skilled game of DDR while Chantal kept up a running commentary about his near-misses.

"They seem to get along," Gerard said, more to be _saying_ something than anything else, after Chantal called Jimmy a buzzed jackrabbit with two left feet. 

Lyn-Z looked bemused and leaned in to whisper, "Jimmy adores that girl, but has to play it cool."

Jimmy tripped and then called the game a 'cheating loser motherfucker with shitty taste in music,' which lead to Chantal prodding him with her foot and telling him that computers don't cheat and he was just inept.

"Your face is inept," Jimmy said, managing to stand up and straighten out the dance pad from the crumpled heap he'd left it in.

Gerard grinned and said, "That's playing it cool?"

"Sort of?" Lyn-Z said, grinning back at him. Gerard just wanted to mutually grin with Lyn-Z forever. "Usually girls have run the other way from him by now. He's got a bit of a reputation. A be-nice-to-that-kid-in-case-he-blows-up-the-school reputation, not the sexy kind."

"No one who likes shoddily made plastic robots can be that bad," Gerard said.

"I knew I liked you," Lyn-Z replied, and Gerard kind of felt like he was floating. Just a bit. In the nice, happy-feelings way. 

There was a pause, and Gerard was three seconds from asking Lyn-Z how her day was when she said, "So I talked to Alicia today. She's trying to get us a gig."

"Are we ready for a gig?" Gerard asked uncertainly.

Lyn-Z shrugged. "We won't know til we're in front of some kids, right?"

Gerard nervously crossed his legs, then felt weird and uncrossed them again. "I've never really sang in front of a bunch of people."

"Nothing to worry about there, then. No one'll actually show up to our first gig. It's the law of gigs or something. It'll be like a dress rehearsal." 

Gerard nodded and said, "It's just kind of scary."

Lyn-Z nodded. "I know. I think it's probably like showing someone your art for the first time. What if they don't get it or think you're weird or laugh or whatever? Then you've just let them see inside your head and they don't understand you. But, you know, it's totally worth it if they do. Get you, I mean."

Gerard thought of Lyn-Z's bedroom, and how she'd kissed him on the cheek after he'd looked at her drawings. "That's... I... I get you. It. What you're saying."

He kind of felt like he was going to break something in his face from smiling so hard, and in fact Jimmy glanced over and said, "If you've got some magic Kool Aid over there, you should at least share with the class."

"No Kool Aid, sorry," Lyn-Z said. "Though you're on top of my list now."

"That's what I like to hear," Jimmy said. "You want a turn?"

"Nah, you're having too much fun," Lyn-Z said.

Chantal let out a beep and said, "Your time out is over, mister."

Jimmy blew her a raspberry. 

"It's like kindergarten," Gerard whispered to Lyn-Z. She replied by reaching over and tugging a strand of his hair.

Gerard was pretty sure he turned pink, because Lyn-Z giggled at him. He noticed that she was tracing a pattern on her thigh over and over and nodded his head towards it. "What are you doing?"

"Oh!" she said, stilling her hand immediately. "I'm just nervous, I think. I'm getting my first tattoo this week."

"Oh," Gerard said and then, belatedly, "Cool!"

"Yeah, I drew it myself. It's fucking awesome," she said. "And I found this guy that'll do it for me, even though I'm not eighteen yet."

"So you're getting it on your thigh?"

"Yeah," she said. "It's different, you know? Not a tramp stamp or anything like most people get."

"Definitely," he said.

"Do you want to go with me?"

"Huh?" Gerard said. 

Lyn-Z gave him an amused look and said, "Come with me. When I get my tattoo. Steve was going to come, but his mom grounded him for getting detention and Jimmy'll just make fun of me the whole time."

"How about Kitty?" Gerard asked.

"What about her?" Lyn-Z said, voice deceptively light. "Come on. It'll be fun."

There were few things Gerard could think of that were _less_ fun than going to see someone he liked get a tattoo. With needles. But it was _Lyn-Z_ and she was asking _him_ and she didn't want Kitty to go so there was only one thing he could say. "Sure. Yeah. It'll be lots of fun."

"Did you just sucker her into going with you to get mutilated?" Jimmy called teasingly.

"There was no suckering! Do you feel suckered?" Lyn-Z asked him.

"Not at all," Gerard said. 

"Sure she didn't use her feminine wiles on you, Gee?" Chantal asked. Gerard would classify her grin as wicked and added her to his list of people to eventually get revenge on.

"I think I would have noticed feminine wiles," Gerard said truthfully.

See? Some people are just nice to their friends," Lyn-Z said, sticking her tongue out at Jimmy.

"Bitch, please," Jimmy said. "I ooze niceness."

"Your momma oozes niceness," Lyn-Z said.

"Are your momma jokes fair game, then?" Chantal asked. "Because I've been holding my tongue, but if we're all accepting of the fact that we're twelve..."

"I vote 'that's what she said' jokes should only be used ironically," Gerard offered.

"I'm appalled that you would think I would use that unironically," Lyn-Z said.

There was the briefest pause before Jimmy and Chantal both chimed in with, "That's what she said!"

*

After a short marathon of Jimmy's favorite anime and a heated debate between Lyn-Z and Gerard about Japanese versus American animation and comic art styles that had ended with Gerard wanting to kiss her for real, he went home. Chantal and Jimmy had been in the argument too, though by the time he'd gotten back to his house he'd somehow forgotten anything they'd said. 

He went upstairs to tell Mikey about how awesome he'd been and how he's talked to Lyn-Z but stopped short at the top of the stairs when he saw that there was a dirty tube sock tied to Mikey's doorknob.

"What the fuck?" he said, then remembered every corny movie he'd ever seen involving college dorms. 

He went downstairs and kicked off his boots while digging out his phone and texting to Mikey, _srsly a sock?_

He dropped the phone on his bed while he went to the bathroom to remove his makeup, not expecting an answer, but by the time he'd gotten the majority of his eyeliner off - fuck if he knew how to get it all off without rubbing his skin raw - he'd gotten one. _fuck u it worked_.

He couldn't really argue there. He texted back asking if Mikey would come down later to hear about his awesome night, and then stared when the answer almost immediately popped back as _no_.

Gerard decided to not push it and shucked his girl clothes in favor of Justice League pajamas and went to bed.

The next morning he stumbled up to the kitchen for coffee to hopefully kickstart his brain enough to remember which of his school uniforms was just sorta-dirty and which were unwearable when he bumped into someone while getting a coffee mug.

"Get outta m'way," he mumbled, then cracked his eyes open enough to realize it wasn't Mikey. It was Pete Wentz.

Gerard decided he wasn't awake enough to deal with this shit, so he just continued shuffling to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. 

"It's not what you think," Pete said. 

"I'm not thinking anything," Gerard replied truthfully, taking his first blessed sip of coffee of the morning. It scalded his tongue in just the right way. He looked around. No Mikey. 

"I mean, okay, I spent the night, but it wasn't a hubba-hubba spend the night kind of spend the night, you know?" Pete was staring at him anxiously. 

Gerard had no fucking clue what Pete meant, so he just continued to sip his coffee.

"Nothing untoward happened!" Pete continued, like Gerard was Mikey's mother or something. "Well, maybe a few untoward things, but totally PG sort of untowardness. But mostly it wasn't, okay?"

Gerard thought about getting something to eat, but decided coffee was close enough to food. He slumped down at the table and tried to tune Pete out. 

"I just needed to stay somewhere for the night, and Mikey was the first person I thought of, and he listened to me, you know? He's a good listener. And we didn't really fix our issues but he didn't... Are you even paying attention to me?"

"Not really," Gerard said. His coffee cup was almost empty.

His mother bustled into the kitchen then, refilling her own mug and saying, "Did you steal my eyeliner?"

"No," Gerard said, holding out his mug pitifully. 

His mother took pity on him and took it from him, then raised her eyebrow at Pete. "Honey, is this one yours?"

"No," Gerard said. "He's Mikey's."

"Oh, the infamous nervous Nellie," she said.

Pete blinked rapidly a few times and said, "Um."

"That's the one," Gerard affirmed. 

"I'm Pete," Pete said. 

"You should tell her your speech about nothing untoward happening," Gerard said. 

"Nothing untoward at all," Pete said.

Gerard accepted his coffee mug back from his mom and grinned as she said, "Well, that's a shame."

Pete opened his mouth and shut it again and was in the process of repeating the process when Mikey wandered in, hair stringy and wet from his shower. "Morning."

Pete practically ran and hid behind Mikey, who raised an eyebrow at him and staggered to the coffeemaker. "What the fuck?" he said, staring at how little coffee remained.

"The early bird gets to watch the lazybones make a new pot," Ma said, settling down across from Gerard.

Mikey dumped the dregs in his mug and started a new pot while Pete looked confused.

"Pete, stop hovering," Mikey mumbled. "No one's going to bite."

"Well, maybe not," Ma said. "Depending. What are your intentions with my son?"

"Ma!" Mikey yelped.

"Don't ask if you don't want to know," Gerard said, remembering Pete's all too recent over-sharing. 

"Uh," Pete said. 

"Seriously, don't answer that," Mikey said.

"I think I should go to school," Pete said, nevermind that he was wearing a t-shirt and Mikey's second favorite pajama bottoms.

Gerard decided he was awake enough to find his cleanish uniform and went back down to his basement, happily shutting the door on the sound of Pete stammering out another excuse to Gerard's mother, as though his tendency to blurt out inappropriate things disappeared when presented with an adult.

Gerard got dressed then snuck out the back way to avoid another Wentz encounter. He made it through his first few classes as usual, and then Frank cornered him at his locker. "Well?"

Gerard was lost.

"With Mikey!" Frank said. "What happened?"

"I have no idea," Gerard said.

"How do you have no idea?"

"I hung out with Lyn-Z and Chantal and Jimmy last night!" Gerard said. "And when I got home Mikey had a sock on his door and didn't want to talk and this morning Pete Wentz was in my kitchen telling me nothing untoward happened."

"So Pete did go home with Mikey!" Frank said. "Oh man. Mikey has the best drama."

"What happened? When I left Patrick was there bitching about something," Gerard said. "What drama?"

"I didn't see it firsthand. I was with Jamia," Frank said. "But I heard that Pete got into a scuffle with some of the other dudes on the soccer team about what he said in detention." 

"How'd they hear about detention?" Gerard asked. Pete hadn't looked like he'd been in a scuffle, though, Gerard could admit, he hadn't really paid much attention to him past the fact that Pete Wentz had been in his kitchen.

"Hell if I know," Frank said. "I'm not really invited to their super secret soccer meetings. So then - and I just heard this from Hambone - then Patrick and Mikey show up, and Patrick starts yelling at this one kid, and Pete just looks scared, and while Patrick is telling the soccer team what narrow-minded fucktards they are Pete and Mikey leave."

Gerard was pretty much used to the abuse the jocks and popular kids hurled towards him and his friends, but he was so used to his friends being cool with whatever any of them decided to do that he felt bad about Pete getting turned on by the kids he sat with at lunch every day, even if everyone already knew they were all assholes.

"Well, that explains why he was so jumpy this morning," Gerard said. "Kept telling me how nothing happened and acted like he was going to jump out of his skin when Ma asked him what his intentions were with Mikey."

Frank began to snicker. "Dude, your mom is--" 

He got cut off by one of the soccer team meatheads, Kid, pushing him into the locker and scowling down at Gerard. "Where's your pansy ass brother?"  
"Like I'd fucking tell you," Gerard said with more attitude than he felt. Frank struggled against him, flailing his fists and kicking his feet, and that only resulted in Kid pushing him into the locker harder. 

Kid said, "Don't try me, fag, I'll kick your ass."

He was joined by his teammate Tommy, who jerked open Gerard's locker and helped push Frank in. Gerard tried to stop them, but mostly just bounced off them as they elbowed Frank into position and shut the locker door, latching the lock. Frank's muffled yells from inside would almost be comical if Gerard weren't so worried about the beating he was no doubt about to get because he wasn't going to play their game.

He'd gotten comfortable in the school routine, he realized, because something like this hadn't happened in months. Nothing really in earnest since the aftermath of the Bert incident, come to think of it. He tried to not look as rattled as he felt when Kid pushed him against the locker and said, "Spill it."

"That's what your mom said last night," Frank yelled through the vents in the locker door.   
Gerard settled for glaring. "What do you want with my brother anyway?"

"Just wanna chat," Tommy said. "Bout this and that. You understand."

"You mean you think he has gay cooties," Gerard said. "And yet here you are all pressed up against me."

Kid's grip on him loosened noticeably, and Gerard took the opportunity to run like hell down the hall. He turned the corner to the science wing and spotted Bob standing near his locker. He ran to Bob, ducking under his arm and leaning against the locker on the far side of Bob, out of breath and glancing nervously around Bob's shoulder.

"There a high-speed chase going on I should know about?" Bob asked.

"Soccer douchebags," Gerard said. "They attempted to rough me up to get Mikey's location."

"You don't look very roughed up," Bob observed. "Ruffled, a little bit, but no manly battle wounds." He reached over and straightened a lock of Gerard's hair. 

"Fuck you," Gerard said. "They locked Frank in my locker."

Bob snickered. "Dude, it sucks and all, but the way Frodo just fits in those things will never not be funny."

Gerard grinned. "And at least I know the combination to get him out. He's safe. I, however, am not. You have to protect me."

He glanced around to make sure no teachers were in sight - because that would be just his luck, getting his phone taken after nearly getting his ass kicked in the middle of the hall - then texted a warning to Mikey. 

"I'll be your knight in shining armor," Bob said. "Just providing I don't have to actually wear shining armor. The band uniforms are bad enough."

"I don't have anything to do with those," Gerard said. "You know I quit that shit as soon as I found out how much it sucks. And besides, if I were in charge of band uniforms they would kick ass instead of being stupid."

"There is no way to save a fucking marching band uniform," Bob told him. He looked amused. "The coast still clear?"

"For now," Gerard said. "I think I'm just going to stick by you for now, though."

"Don't you think we should let Frank out?"

"Oh yeah," Gerard said. "I guess."

Bob looked at his Biology book, then shoved it back in his locker. He walked calmly towards Gerard's locker, and Gerard filled him in on the events that lead to Mikey earning himself the attention of the soccer team.

"The hell of it is that Pete isn't even sure he's gay," Gerard said. "Though, you know, if fear of what his teammates would think is what was holding him back, then that problem got fixed right up."

"Not exactly the way he would have wanted," Bob said. They stopped in front of Gerard's locker. There was a dull, rhythmic banging coming from inside. 

"Are you trying to get attention or just jacking off in there?" Gerard asked, sticking his face up to the vent and trying to see inside.

"Gerard! Let me out of here, asshole," Frank said. "No one's fucking paying any attention. I've been yelling and banging for hours!"

"It's been like five minutes," Bob said. Gerard opened the lock and opened the door and Frank came tumbling out, catching himself on Gerard's arm and straightening up. He was flushed and looked like an especially pissed off chihuahua. Gerard thought he might be able to actually do some damage if he ran into one of the soccer team guys.

"Good! You got backup. Good thinking," Frank said. "We gonna go smash their faces? Or their car windows, I'm not picky."

"No vandalism," Bob decreed. "We don't want escalation. In the movies that always ends with one of the innocent bystanders getting fucked up."

"And that's bad," Gerard said. "I thought we'd, you know, skip class and find Mikey."

"Where are we going to find him at?" Frank asked. He was looking down the hallway, both making sure no one important had seen his humiliation and looking for soccer players to yell obsceneties at, Gerard reckoned.

He checked his phone. "The football stadium."

"That's actually pretty smart," Frank said. "The football team doesn't like the soccer team either."

They trooped to the football stadium and found Mikey and Pete sitting in the far upper corner of the stadium.

They made their way up the stairs. Pete was sitting with his back to them, feet dangling over the edge and leaning his chin on the lower bar of the metal rail. Mikey was leaning against the top cement riser, the hoodie he had on under his blazer tugged over his head and his hands shoved in the pockets. Neither looked happy.

Frank interrupted the silence by announcing, "You fucker, I got shoved in a locker because of your stupid ass."

Mikey raised an eyebrow and Pete jumped, nearly hitting his head on the metal rail. 

"We didn't snitch you out though," Gerard said.

"What's he doing here?" Pete said, pointing to Bob.

"Bob's muscle," Mikey said. Gerard sat down next to his brother, and Frank scooted in close, too. Bob sat across from them, looking unperturbed by the wind. 

"Gerard has declared me his knight in shining armor," Bob said. 

"Did you give him a token?" Frank asked. "Otherwise he's a knight for the taking."

Gerard and Frank both began to look through their pockets for a token of their affection to offer Bob. Frank came up with a bent cigarette and Gerard offered a Misfits pin from his blazer's lapel.

"You all really are freaks," Pete said. Gerard had almost forgotten he was there, but Pete sounded bemused enough that he didn't feel the urge to push him off the bleachers.

"Someone's just jealous," Bob said, then decisively took both the pin and cigarette. "And I can be knight for both of you."

"Brazen hussy," Mikey said.

"Speaking of which," Frank said, prodding Mikey in the leg. "I can't help but notice that a lot has changed since, oh, _yesterday_."

"Nothing's changed," Pete said quickly.

Mikey gave him a bitchy look.

"Nothing?" Gerard said skeptically. "This time yesterday it seems like I'd had a lot less uncomfortable conversations with you and also had only gotten my ass kicked by jocks because of things I'd done to piss them off, not things Pete Wentz had done to piss them off."

"I didn't do anything!" Pete said. "You can't blame me because they... misinterpreted shit."

"Seriously, Pete?" Mikey said, and Gerard knew him well enough to know it was his upset voice. 

Pete looked startled. "What? I didn't mean... Mikey, no."

"They misinterpreted shit?" Mikey said. 

"What I meant was, they're bigoted assholes," Pete said. "I didn't mean... You know me, Mikey. I can't not fuck things up, not things like this."

"I get that you don't want to fuck up your life," Mikey said. "But things are already fucked up, Pete, so you don't get to hide anymore."

Frank leaned his head on Gerard's shoulder and whispered, "It's like waking up in the OC. Way’s Creek or some shit."  
"You see what's happening just because of a rumor!" Pete said. "I wasn't exactly exaggerating."

"What, a couple of assholes want to beat you up?" Mikey said. "Big fucking deal. At least none of us are running scared."

Bob opened his mouth, then shut it again. Gerard stuck his tongue out at him. Pete didn't notice, he was too busy staring at Mikey like he'd never seen him before.

"Remember what all we talked about? I thought you... What the fuck ever," Pete said, standing up. "I'm out of here."

"Sit down," Bob said. "What, you going to go nobly march into school in the middle of fourth period to get your ass kicked?"

Pete glared down at him. "See, I can't even march off in a huff without fucking up."

"You aren't a fuckup," Mikey said, sounding weary. "It's just... Seriously, Pete, you're acting like we have some sort of magical 'get out of the closet scott-free' card that you missed out on."

"But it was easier for you," Pete insisted.

"What the fuck ever," Frank mumbled. "I have a very hot girlfriend and I just got shoved in the locker for being a faggot."

Gerard wrapped his arm around Frank and said, "I think that means he wanted to date you."

"I think you're sad you aren't anyone's hot girlfriend," Frank replied.

Mikey rolled his eyes. "What they're trying to say is that it wasn't fucking easier on us. We just didn't have a choice, because we aren't popular and cool and people decided to think what they wanted about us from the get-go. You at least got to know what it was like to not be an outsider."

Pete snorted. "You think I was ever an insider? There's a reason Patrick's my best friend, not anyone on the team."

"Then why stay?" Bob asked.

Pete shrugged. "I like playing. It's... cathartic. I feel myself when I'm on the field, you know? So I wasn't going to let a bunch of assholes ruin that for me."

That actually made sense to Gerard. It was like when he'd decided he preferred spending recess drawing in his notebook instead of playing four-square, no matter what the other kids called him or threw at him when the teacher wasn't looking.

It was even sort of like him deciding he preferred to have a chance with Lyn-Z when he was in a skirt lying to her instead of talking to her in class knowing she would never feel anything for him like he did for her.

"But you were going to let a bunch of assholes ruin us?" Mikey said quietly.

Pete looked pointedly at Gerard and Frank and Bob, who were all watching avidly. "Do we really have to talk about that now?"

"You avoid it when we're alone and you disappear when Alicia's around," Mikey said. "It's not like they don't know everything already."

"They don't know _everything_ ," Pete said.

"Yeah, but if Mikey knew _everything_ you two wouldn't be in this mess," Frank said.

Gerard elbowed him. "We can leave," he told Mikey.

Mikey looked as though he very much didn't want to be left alone. "I just want this to be simple," he said finally.

Gerard spoke up before Pete could. "Mikey, you know that's not going to happen. Two people are hard enough to work together. Three's never going to be simple. Especially when one of them is a jackass." He made sure to glare hard at Pete when he said that, just in case Mikey decided to misinterpret.

"I just don't want to..." Pete trailed off and then said, "You and Alicia are good together, okay?"

"Not right now," Mikey said.

"Exactly," Pete said, and stood up. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then shook his head and stepped over Gerard and Frank's legs.

“Wait,” Mikey said, following Pete. They were a few steps down, but their words were still clear. Gerard glanced at Bob and Frank, wondering what they should do, and they shrugged.

"So I fucking freaked out," Pete snapped. "Get over it. Go fix your relationship with Alicia. You don’t need me."

Mikey narrowed his eyes. "Have you talked to Alicia?"

Pete stayed silent, and Gerard felt Frank shift beside him in a way that meant he was about to burst out with something that might make Pete take off. Gerard grabbed his arm, and shook his head slightly. The conversation was probably intimate enough that they should stop listening in, but, Gerard figured, he was just saving his brother from having to recap it all later.

He tried to not think of how much he didn't want anyone listening in on his conversations with Lyn-Z.

"You can't just fuck around with us like this," Mikey said after it became evident that Pete wasn't going to offer any excuse. "And don't start your 'I'm not gay' shit because that's not gonna fly for Alicia."

"Some fucking friend you are," Pete replied. "Maybe I'm a little fucking confused right now, okay? Not all of us get to traipse along in the footsteps of our brothers, okay?"

It was more Bob's grip on Frank than Gerard's that kept him from leaping down after Pete. 

"Don't make it worse," Bob hissed.

“I’ll show him traipsing,” Frank hissed back, but his shoulders relaxed.

"I didn't mean..." Pete said, probably more because of Mikey's expression than any real concern for Gerard's perceived character. "Goddamn it, Mikey, I don't know how else to say I'm fucking up because I'm fucked up. This isn't anything I anticipated."

"Because I planned it," Mikey said pointedly. "Me and Alicia were happy without you, you know." Pete flinched but Mikey continued unabated. "We were happy and then you came along and none of this is fucking easy for us, but at least we aren't hiding from it."

"I'm not hiding," Pete said, though all the fire was gone from his voice. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"So you say," Mikey said, tone making clear the difference he was seeing between Pete's words and actions.

Pete started to say something, then stopped, glanced around the stadium. His gaze passed over Gerard and Frank and Bob without notice, and Gerard figured that they weren't who Pete was nervous about.

And then he stepped in close and kissed Mikey gently on the lips.

"Huh," Bob said, like Pete had pleasantly surprised him. Gerard was hoping that Mikey would knock the douchebag on his ass but instead Mikey reached up and pressed his hand against the side of Pete's head, ruffling Pete's stupid hair and looking like he never wanted to let go.

After a minute they broke apart, and Mikey was more flushed than Gerard thought a kiss like that warranted.

"That was above the waist," Mikey said, steady tone belied by his pink cheeks.

"It was in public," Pete pointed out. He didn't sound steady at all. "I'm not hiding."

"Because none of your friends are here," Mikey said without ire.

“Because nobody’s here,” muttered Frank. 

"My friends are fucking awesome," Pete announced. "It's my teammates that worry me. It's not like I don't already get my ass kicked."

"Then what's the problem?" Mikey asked.

"You don't know what it's like," Pete said. "I'd kill to just not worry about what people think but I have to, okay? That's just the way it is."

Frank raised his eyebrow at Gerard and Bob. Bob shrugged, and Gerard wondered if this was why Mikey tended to be so tight-lipped about his friendship - rather, relationship - with Pete. He still wasn't ready to buy the story Pete was selling, though he could tell Mikey was.

But instead of whatever Gerard had been expecting - he knew perfectly well what Mikey's outwardly bland expression meant, alarmed though he was that apparently his little brother was closer to Pete than Gerard had thought, but apparently Mikey was still more pissed than forgiving - Mikey just shook his head and said, "Then this is how this has to be. But don't worry, if any of your _teammates_ show up I'll tell them how gay you aren't."

Pete turned and Gerard couldn't quite see his expression, but he could tell that Mikey's rejection had hurt. "What the fuck ever," Pete said, and his voice was unsteady again.

Gerard watched Mikey watch Pete leave. "I'm guessing you didn't talk about that last night."

"No," Mikey said. "We didn't."  
He slowly made his way back up to them, slouching down beside Frank, shoulders hunched.

Bob shook his head and Frank offered Mikey a hug, which Mikey turned down. 

"You know," Bob said, "if you two manage to get your shit together and then the sex sucks, I'm going to laugh so hard."

"Fuck you," mumbled Mikey, but he smiled a little, so Gerard took it as a win.

*

They stayed in the bleachers for a little while longer, listening to a story Bob told about him and Dan fucking with the rest of the drumline and sharing Frank's bent cigarette, then Gerard and Frank and Bob went to lunch when Mikey said he had to go find Alicia.

They found Ray and Dewees at their usual table, eating corn dogs and looking at a catalogue of costumes.

"Something you want to tell us?" Frank said, plucking the catalogue out of Dewees' hands, flipping through and looking at the array of bear costumes.

"I wanted to ask if you wear extra-small or if I should just look for a kid's catalogue," Dewees said, "but that would ruin the surprise."

"Lick my balls," Frank replied, flipping through the catalogue before handing it back to Ray, who stuffed it in his backpack.

"Fine, keep secrets," Bob said.

"It's nothing!" Ray said. Dewees gave him a sideways look, like he wasn't sure why Ray was being so secretive, but he didn't add anything.

Gerard considered asking Dewees what was going on, but decided that he had pretty much reached the limit on how much drama he wanted to deal with in one day. 

He glanced over to Lyn-Z's table out of reflex more than anything, and was surprised to see Chantal in Kitty's normal seat. Kitty herself was nowhere to be seen. His heart beat a little quicker as he scanned around the cafeteria looking for her quirky pigtails, and he told himself firmly that she was probably just absent when he didn't see her anywhere.

He couldn't help but hope that she and Lyn-Z had broken up. Lyn-Z herself seemed more subdued than usual, leaned back in her chair and just picking at her food.

Gerard stuck close to Bob between each class for the rest of the afternoon, trying to avoid being noticed by evil-minded jocks on his way to class. He finally came across Kid and Tommy standing around outside the art classroom, and he clutched at Bob's arm a little. 

"I can't go down there!" he hissed. "I can't get a wedgie or whatever where Lyn-Z might see."

Bob looked sympathetic. "You could come to band with me, I guess. Today's a free day and Mr. Rickly probably wouldn't even notice an extra kid hanging around in the back. Usually people don't sneak into class."

Gerard trailed along after Bob into the band room, where he felt more like he was performing some covert op than he did when he went to band practice. People were sitting around the room in clumps and clusters chatting and playing cards and goofing off, and no one even gave Gerard a second look until he sat down next to Bob in the corner of the room the drum line had clearly established as their own.

The underclassman part of the drum line glared at him like he was an intruder until a redhead kid in a homemade anarchy shirt elbowed the kid in a vest and headband and said, "This isn't an exclusive club, man."

Gerard was glad that the attention of the underclassmen was off of him, even if he was pretty sure the only reason he'd gotten approval was because the redhead was a friend of Pete's. 

Bob was helping Dan Whitesides adjust some of the drum setup, and when they finished they both joined Gerard on the floor, Bob leaning against the wall and Dan comfortably sprawling on his belly, kicking his legs up like he was at a slumber party.

"It's been a while since you were in here," Dan said cheerily. "You pussied out, what, the first day of freshman year?"

Gerard grinned. "It wasn't even freshman year yet. I don't know how you put up with that band camp shit."

It was pretty obvious that he wasn't going to get kicked out of the room anytime soon, so Gerard began to relax. 

"Oh!" Dan said suddenly, grinning and prodding Bob in the ankle. "I haven't told you my fantabulous news!"

"You haven't," Bob agreed.

"They picked me as Brenden's replacement!" Dan said. "I get to hang out with Jepharee-mo-dee all the time now."

Gerard tried not to be startled.

"That's great!" Bob said, looking as though he wasn't sure how to react with Gerard sitting there. Gerard felt like an ass. Of course Bob kept up with his old friends. He'd practically lived at Jepha's house freshman year, and even if he'd sided with Gerard during the incident, it wasn't like Gerard would have ever asked him to sever ties with them completely.

"I've been learning all their songs, which kick so much ass, and I'm going to play with them at their next gig and everything," Dan continued. "It's super-duper."

Bob high-fived Dan.

Dan launched into a convoluted story about him and Jepha trying to meet at Starbucks that Gerard wasn't in the right frame of mind to follow, so he picked at a hole developing in the knee of his uniform pants - which, what the fuck, were supposed to last all year - and led to him noticing when Kitty made her way into the room, stopping at Mr. Rickly's desk to hand him a tardy slip before coming over to the drum line's corner and sitting away from everyone else.  
She wasn't absent after all, Gerard thought. She just hadn't sat with _Lyn-Z_ at lunch.

She looked the same kind of sullen and upset as Lyn-Z had during lunch, actually. Gerard wasn't sure he'd ever seen her look so glum, but granted, he'd always paid more attention to her girlfriend. 

She took out a book from her bag and opened it, seeming to read, though Gerard noticed when he kept glancing over that she didn't seem to actually be turning the pages at all. No one else seemed to pay much attention to her, and Gerard realized she wasn't really friends with the rest of the drummers.

"Does she always sit alone?" he asked, interrupting Dan's story.

"Kitty?" Bob asked, looking over. "Yeah." 

"We've tried to talk to her a few times but she didn't seem very friendly," Dan said. That didn't really mesh with what Gerard knew of Kitty, but Bob just sort of shrugged. 

He made himself concentrate on Dan's stories and found himself missing Jepha a little bit, even though he was still happy to have not seen Bert or Quinn since the messy aftermath of the incident. Kitty caught him glancing over at her once, and from the way she glared he kind of understood why Dan and Bob didn't talk to her more. She was a lot more off-putting when she wasn't secure in her group of friends, Gerard supposed.

After he left the band room he almost forgot to go to detention. 

He arrived on time, and sat next to Dewees. He managed to get most of his homework done - something that had taken far more precedence in his life since he started looking at the scholastic requirements of art school - and definitely did not spend the hour straining to hear what Lyn-Z and Steve were whispering about whenever the detention supervisor left the room.

He was completely unsuccessful in that venture.

He almost wished that he'd followed Mikey's lead and skipped school when, exhausted, he finally got to leave.


	5. Chapter 5

[Part Four](http://nokomis305.livejournal.com/223258.html)

Gerard was only three issues into his backlog of comics from the last week when his phone rang. He spent a confused moment staring at the caller id that was insisting Arwen Undomiel was calling before remembering Frank’s habit of fucking with his phone, and puffed up a little at being moved up in the ranks from Peter Parker to Aragorn. 

"Hello?" he said warily into the phone, wondering if he should pitch his voice higher and then feeling like an idiot because he _sang_ in her band, of course she wasn't going to be surprised by the fucking pitch of his voice.

"Hey Gee!" Lyn-Z said, sounding brighter than normal. "Remember when I asked you if you wanted to come with me when I got my tattoo?"

"You mean yesterday? Of course," Gerard replied. Great, now he sounded bitchy.

"Great. Well, I just got a call from the dude and he had a cancellation this afternoon, so he's going to bump me up," Lyn-Z said. "You still up for it?"

Gerard had had all these plans about looking up stuff about tattoos and where not to look and like fucking breathing techniques so he wouldn't make an idiot of himself. Instead he'd wasted his few free minutes reading _Jack of Fables_ and now he was going to pass out in front of Lyn-Z and she would hate him for abandoning her in her time of need and the tattoo artist would probably be so alarmed at Gerard keeling over that he'd fuck up and Lyn-Z would remember his loserdom every time she looked at her thigh for the rest of her life.

"Definitely," he said. He was never again going to make fun of songs about being a fool in love. Hell, he might _write_ one. Something country and sassy. He made plans to meet Lyn-Z at a coffee shop near the tattoo parlor because he was going to need lots and lots of coffee to get through this, and reluctantly abandoned his pile of unread comics for an eyeliner pencil. 

While he dressed he called Frank, because Frank knew all about tattoos even though he'd never made Gerard go with him when he got one of his illicit ones done by the less rule-abiding parlors in town. 

There was silence at the other end of the line after Gerard explained the situation.

"Dude," Frank said. "You can't even fucking make it through an episode of _LA Ink_ without getting pale, and they don't show anything icky. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"She looked at me, Frankie, I couldn't stop myself from agreeing," Gerard said. "I am an idiot, and a sucker, and in less than an hour I'm going to make even more of an idiot of myself. I need advice."

"Don't pass out," Frank replied.

"I hope orcs eat your face," Gerard said, looking through his basket of Gee clothes and deciding on a striped shirt to wear with Jamia's denim jacket and a black swishy skirt. "Seriously."

"Just... don't look at the tat," Frank said. "Look at her. Talk to her."

"That is easier said than done," Gerard said. "She's getting her _thigh_ tattooed."

There was the briefest pause before Frank cracked the hell up. "Gee, you are screwed."

Gerard crammed his stockinged feet into his chucks. "I know." He sighed. "Well, wish me luck."

"Stay conscious!" Frank offered. "And upright, that's an important one,"

"Thanks," Gerard said wryly into the phone. He checked himself in the mirror a few more times, then couldn't really justify putting it off any longer and left in the direction of the coffee house. 

On the way there he almost managed to talk himself out of the whole thing, because Lyn-Z hadn't known Gee all that long and wouldn't really be _surprised_ if he bailed on her, not really, and it would be totally okay and wouldn't hurt his chances at all, only when he got to the coffee house he could see Lyn-Z through the window, still wearing her school uniform and sitting at one of the tall tables near the corner, kicking her feet against her chair's legs while she sipped at a to-go cup of coffee.

She looked nervous, and still kind of down like she had been at school, and Gerard couldn't leave her sitting there all alone.

He walked through the door, and looked up just in time to see Lyn-Z spot him and smile warmly. He waved and got in line, and a minute later met her at her table with his own steaming cup of coffee, nerves temporarily steeled for the upcoming test.

"I was scared you wouldn't come," Lyn-Z confessed as he awkwardly climbed onto the tall chair. "We haven't really known each other that long and this is kind of a big thing to ask."

"I was happy to come," Gerard said, and, okay, some lies were okay to tell her. "That's what friends are for."

The smile on her face was worth all the friend-labels in the world. 

"What are you getting?" he asked.

She dug a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it, revealing a strange sort of design. "I thought I'd go sort of tribal, but sort... not," she explained, tracing the lines of the design with one finger. "What do you think?"

"You drew it yourself?" he said. 

"Yeah," she said. "It's going to be my skin, it should be _me_ , you know?"

"It's amazing," he told her. 

"We should probably head over there," she said. "I don't want to be late."

It was only a short walk, and while Lyn-Z didn't seem off-put by how run-down Revenge Tattoos was, Gerard certainly was. "Are you sure about this?" 

"You shouldn't judge on appearances," Lyn-Z said, pushing open the front door confidently. "This guy's great."

Gerard looked around the front room, with its folding chairs set up by the window and the sun-faded wall of designs, skeptically. "I just don't want your leg to fall off. It's a great leg."

"Thanks," Lyn-Z said, "but it's going to be fine. And you're supposed to be reassuring _me_ , just for the record."

"I just want you to make a well-informed decision," Gerard said, feeling like he was being possessed by the spirit of... well, not _his_ mother, but _someone's_ well-meaning but overbearing mother.

"It's informed," Lyn-Z said. She peered around then called out, "Worm?"

"Just a sec!" someone called from a back room. A huge guy came ambling "Alright, I got it all set up. No last minute changes to the design?"

"Nope," Lyn-Z said. 

"Your girlfriend want something done or she just here to hold your hand?"

"Hand holding only," Lyn-Z said. She turned to Gerard. "Unless you want...?"

Gerard shook his head quickly. "I'm good. Thanks."

He then zoned out of the rest of Lyn-Z's conversation with Worm because she _hadn't corrected his assumption_ that Gerard was her girlfriend. And she wanted hand-holding! Gerard rubbed his palms against his skirt and hoped that they wouldn't be disgusting or, like, weirdly clammy if he held her hand. 

Before he even realized any time had passed Lyn-Z was nudging him and saying, "Come on."

He followed Lyn-Z and Worm to the back room, where Worm motioned for Lyn-Z to hop on the padded table. She did, and Gerard couldn't help but notice that it and the stool Worm pushed over to the table to sit on himself were patched with duct tape. Lyn-Z looked at him and stuck her tongue out. 

Lyn-Z situated herself and fixed her skirt so that her thigh was bare, and Gerard did his best to not hover too much or stare too hard at the suddenly bare skin and the way that the skirt was bunched up as Worm disinfected her leg and transferred the design to her leg with a few approving sounds from Lyn-Z.

"What do you think?" she said. Gerard scooted closer, giving Worm and the tattoo gun in his hand wide berth, and nodded his approval for the design on her leg. 

"It's going to look awesome," he told her. She grinned. 

"Ready?" Worm asked. Lyn-Z nodded, and Gerard impulsively grabbed her hand and squeezed it as the gun buzzed into action.

Lyn-Z gritted her teeth and then relaxed, like it wasn't as bad as she'd been bracing herself for. Gerard concentrated on looking at her face and not letting his gaze drift south.

He failed, and stared for a moment at Worm's gloved hands guiding the tattoo gun along the pattern, pausing to wipe at it every few moments, cleaning away dark drops Gerard firmly told himself were ink, not blood.

He felt himself getting a little light-headed, so he forced himself to stare at Worm's t-shirt instead of where the needle was jabbing into Lyn-Z's thigh. The t-shirt was black and had a smoking gun surrounded by the words, "Come back to Detroit, we missed you." 

He spent a moment squeezing Lyn-Z's hand supportively and inventing an origin story for Worm that involved leading a bullet hole-studded life of crime in Detroit until discovering a talent for tattooing in prison, and relocating to somewhere less violent and more ink-prone. 

After a few minutes of this, Gerard realized that the steady buzzing of the tattoo gun and the quiet murmur of questions and answers between Worm and Lyn-Z had lulled him into a comfortable state. He was totally okay with this. He was here and being a good friend and just as long as he didn't look at or think about what was going on he was totally going to make it through this.

Plus, he got to stand here to the side, holding Lyn-Z's hand in his own. In circumstances where he was less distracted he would probably be psyching himself out, but right now he just realized how well their hands fit together - Lyn-Z's hand was almost the same size as his own, and he looked at their entwined fingers and realized they both had chipped black nail polish. 

From there his eyes naturally went to Lyn-Z's bare thighs, the way her legs were parted and the strange jab of jealousy he thought as Worm wiped her leg again, casually touching skin Gerard had dreamed about.

He averted his eyes before he looked any closer at the tattoo in progress, but then Lyn-Z said, "It's looking good so far!"

Gerard looked, and now the skin around the completed portions of the tattoo was angry red and raised, and Worm was moving the gun around one of the parts that needed to be filled in quick movements that made Gerard's stomach clench and his knees feel weak.

"Yeah," he forced out, trying to not think of needles and what the gun's function was or the word 'jab' or 'pierce' or anything like that, but that ship had sailed.

He squeezed Lyn-Z's hand tighter and tried to look anywhere that wasn't currently being repeatedly stabbed and filled with ink, failing utterly, and feeling more and more light-headed the more he failed to distract himself.

"Are you okay?" Lyn-Z asked. The buzzing of the tattoo gun stopped as Worm stared at him, too.

"Fine," he choked out. "Um."

The room was spinning and black dots swam around. 

"You should go get some air," Worm suggested.

"I think. Yeah. I mean," he looked at Lyn-Z. He didn't want to abandon her, but he didn't want to pass out on her, either.

"Go on, we're almost done," Lyn-Z said. 

Gerard didn't want to abandon her but he couldn't stay here any longer. He fled the room and went out the front door, going to the side of the building where the parking lot was located and leaning against the cool brick wall, concentrating on breathing in and out and sinking to the ground, leaning his head back against the wall and feeling more and more embarrassed as the dizziness passed.

He was a fucking idiot. Lyn-Z no doubt thought he was some sort of swooning nitwit. 

And she was totally, totally right. 

He banged his head back against the wall once, then jumped up holding the back of his head. "Motherfucker," he grumbled at the wall, and paced around a little bit, feeling better now that his traitorous knees weren't made of jello.

"Did you puke?"

"Huh?" he said, turning around quick enough that his hair whirled and stuck to his lip gloss. He shoved the hair away and stared at Lyn-Z, who was just a few feet away and looking at him in a way he didn't quite recognize. A bit of white bandage and tape stuck out from under her skirt, which was still hitched higher than even she normally wore.

"Did you puke?" she repeated, like it was the most important question in the world.

"No," he said. "I just got--"

The rest of the sentence was lost in Lyn-Z's mouth. He stumbled backwards and bumped against the wall, Lyn-Z warm against his front.

Her arms were thrown around his neck and he momentarily worried that she'd gotten scratched when he fell back against the wall, but then she was leaning in again and kissing him again and he didn't know what to _do_ other than put his hands on her hips and return the kiss.

The fact that he'd just nearly passed out and was still dizzy was the only rational explanation for why he felt lighter than air as he kissed her, like he was going to float away from the feel of her lips against his and her tongue darting out wetly against his own.

And then she pulled back and he was standing there, the brick wall holding him up and his hands splayed over her hips like they belonged there. 

"If you puked I wouldn't have done that," she said.

"I... you're pretty," he replied. His hands were on her hips and he could still _taste_ her.

She laughed and said, "Reckon I wasn't reading you wrong after all."

Then she leaned in and kissed him again.

*

When he got home, Gerard just went directly to his room and sat on his bed, kicking off his boots and staring at the wall.

He almost was certain that he'd imagined the entire night. He was probably actually in math class right now, drooling on his notes and getting spitwads flicked into his hair. 

He pinched himself on the leg a few times. It hurt.

That didn't necessarily rule out hallucination, but Gerard's cheeks were also hurting from the goofy grin that hadn't really left his face since Lyn-Z had, well, left his face. They'd stopped kissing against the wall of the tattoo parlor after a minute - Gerard had wanted nothing more than to stay there forever but had also been the teeny tiniest bit relieved because he still didn't really have any _plans_ for what he was going to do to avoid having Lyn-Z notice that he had a dick - and Gerard had dizzily offered to walk Lyn-Z home.

"You sure?" she'd asked, looking concerned, and he'd offered her his arm because his speech skills were still questionable at that point, and had walked her home, the arm-holding falling into a more comfortable hand-holding at some point.

"I'm exhausted," Lyn-Z had said when they reached her house, and he'd nodded dumbly and said, "I'm glad that.. I mean, tonight... went swimmingly."

In the quiet of his own room Gerard realized that 'swimmingly' was the single most featherbrained thing he could have said. He flopped back and pulled a pillow over his face and thought about suffocating himself because apparently his brain short-circuited even more around Lyn-Z when she was willingly kissing him, and he thought now that not getting to kiss Lyn-Z again was even worse than the thought of never getting to hold her hand. 

Then he realized that it was impossible to suffocate yourself with a pillow without a much more elaborate setup than he was willing to create and that his mother would find him and assume it was some sort of weird sex thing and he'd go down in family history as the Way who kinked himself to death. And then he wouldn't get to kiss Lyn-Z again and it was a self-defeating process.

And she hadn't really acted like he was a dumbass, just squeezed his hand and ran into her house, glancing back once as she opened the front door and _beaming_ at him like the fucking sun, and there was no fucking way that Gerard was this lucky. 

He for once didn't even call Frank or anyone, and he didn't want to go upstairs and tell Mikey. He didn't want to ruin this moment by focusing on all the ways he'd fucked up the evening or all the things he should have done or said or all the uncertainties he knew they would point out.

Right now he just wanted to wallow in the memory of Lyn-Z kissing him.

Well. 

Lyn-Z had kissed Gee. Which was the same thing, really. Mostly. In that Gee said all the stupid things he said and liked the things he liked and looked like him, but Gee was a girl in a rock band while Gerard was just the creepy boy in art class. 

The creepy boy Lyn-Z would never throw her arms around the neck of and kiss. The boy who didn't speak to Lyn-Z in all the months he'd been obsessing over her, even before he knew she had a girlfriend. 

And, crap, that was another thing. Lyn-Z had a girlfriend. He's in a band with them, he's pretty sure he would have heard something if they'd broken up. 

Lyn-Z didn't seem like the kind of person who would cheat on her girlfriend. Lyn-Z, he was almost certain, had said things that indicated that she didn't like cheaters. So what the hell was she thinking? Was she just messing with him? Again, not a very Lyn-Z thing to do, but, Gerard slowly thought, he wasn't really an expert on her. 

He apparently didn't know her half as well as he'd thought.

The pillow was still over his head, blocking out the light from the bare bulb overhead, and he flung it to the side and stripped out of his Gee clothes.

He thought about texting Lyn-Z, but didn't know what to say. 

He was going to talk to her the next time he saw her, he decided. They were going to talk about all the things he hadn't even thought about asking tonight. All the things he'd waved away from his thoughts because he wanted her so badly. 

He put on his pajamas and crawled into bed with his stack of unread comics. He wasn't going to psych himself out. Lyn-Z wasn't a headcase like he was, and she'd definitely known what she was doing when she kissed him.

When she kissed him _more than once_.

He read his way through his comics, though he kept transposing Lyn-Z's face over every brunette's. Finally, he pushed the comics aside, not even caring when they fell in an untidy pile on the floor and, remembering the rough feel of the brick wall against his back and the softness of Lyn-Z pressed against his front, his hand dipped under the waistband of his pajamas.

It turned out all doubt and lingering guilt disappeared when the world narrowed to just the movement of his hand and the memory of Lyn-Z's tongue flicking against his. 

*

The next day Gerard still couldn't quite stop grinning. He woke up to a message from Lyn-Z saying that last night had been awesome, and most of his doubts evaporated under his elation. He was in the kitchen working on his second cup of coffee when Mikey came stumbling in and made a beeline for the coffeemaker.

He drank his first cup at the counter and then made his way to the table with his second, sitting across from Gerard. He blearily prodded at his phone a few times and then looked up at Gerard.

He blinked a few times and finally said, "Did you get Jokerized in the middle of the night?"

"Nope," Gerard said brightly.

Mikey looked at him and then back at his coffee. "It's too early to play guessing games."

Gerard had meant to drag it out and maybe not even share at all, but he couldn't really hold it in any longer. "Lyn-Z kissed me."

"Yeah, you already told us about that a hundred times," Mikey said.

"No," Gerard said. "Lyn-Z _kissed_ me."

Mikey took another sip of coffee. “On the cheek again?”

“We basically made out against a tattoo parlor wall,” Gerard said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. His cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so wide.

“Are you serious?” Mikey squawked. He high-fived Gerard over the table. “No exaggeration?”

“Well, okay, making out is maybe an exaggeration,” Gerard admitted. “But there was kissing. Multiple kisses. Excellent kisses. Mind-blowing kisses.” 

“You said something retarded afterwards, didn’t you?” Mikey asked with that _smirk_ that clearly said that he would never say something stupid after getting his mind blown by a gorgeous awesome great kisser.

“Not at all,” Gerard lied. _Swimmingly_ was the definition of something that should never be said after getting awesome kisses. “I said she was pretty.”

“Well that’s something,” Mikey said, though Gerard could tell he was skeptical. “I can’t believe you actually got that far with her.”

“Me either,” Gerard said. “She’s... she’s perfect, Mikey.”

Mikey ran his finger along the rim of his coffee cup a few times before saying slowly, “Gerard, you know... you know she’s going to be pissed off at you when she finds out you’ve been lying to her, right?”

“I’m trying to not think of that,” Gerard admitted.

“I don’t want your heart to get broken again, is all,” Mikey said.

Gerard didn’t either, but... “I can’t just... I have to go for it, Mikey. I can’t close myself off, even though I know it will never last. She’s all I want.”

“I’m just saying, you should think about telling her, so she doesn’t find out and not listen to your reasons,” Mikey said. “Just think you’re just a creep, not a creep in love.”

Gerard just hoped that Lyn-Z had a thing for creeps.

*

When Gerard sat down at lunch, he received a round of applause.

“Finally,” Frank said. “We were beginning to think that you were going to offer to take her on carriage rides and take her for strolls around the churchyard.” 

“Fuck you,” Gerard said, but he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Mikey told?”

“No, we looked into a fucking crystal ball,” Bob said.

Gerard made a face at Bob and said, “It was amazing.”

“Did you pass out and Lyn-Z had to give you mouth-to-mouth?” Frank asked. “Because that doesn’t count.”

“No, it was completely of her own accord,” Gerard insisted. 

Ray said, “Uh-huh.”

“It was amazing,” Gerard repeated. “And where is Mikey? It’s not fair he spoiled my news.” 

“You know he can’t come into the cafeteria,” Ray said. “The soccer players are still pretty much out for blood.”

“Still?” Gerard said. “I thought they had a shorter attention span than that.”

“Not when it comes to one of their own,” Frank said.

“They’re kind of like a weird cult like that,” Bob said. 

“He’s been slinking through the halls. Mikey can be a sneaky bastard when he sets his mind to it,” Frank added. “Like a cat.”

That much Gerard knew already. He just attempted to make a sculpture with his mashed potatoes - failing because of their gloopiness - and said, “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” when Frank pestered him for more details.

That got three separate snorts. 

Gerard defended his honor, then glanced over at Lyn-Z’s table. She wasn’t there.

“Lyn-Z’s not here!” he announced.

“Are you just now noticing?” Ray asked.

Gerard thought back to his morning and remembered it as a blur of schoolwork and spending every free second replaying the night before in his head. He almost couldn’t believe it himself, but he’d managed to not notice Lyn-Z’s absence. “I am the worst girlfriend ever.”

“Pretty much,” Frank agreed.

“What if she’s sick? What if she was allergic to getting a tattoo and kissing me was a result of some weird shock-induced trance?” Gerard asked, wringing his hands.

“Maybe she got hit by a magical love-dart,” Ray suggested with a serious expression. 

“You think?” Gerard began but then realized he was getting made fun of. “Suck it, Toro.”

In art class he felt more than a little lost without Lyn-Z at the next table, and tried to focus on his work and keep an eye on Dewees but his concentration kept slipping. 

Steve was louder than usual without Lyn-Z there, Gerard couldn’t help but notice. He snarked at Mr. Armstrong during the short lecture at the beginning of class, he mumbled to himself when doing his sketchwork, and Gerard thought he might be getting paranoid because he kept seeing Steve glaring at him.

Gerard worked on his crosshatching diligently. 

Then Chantal plopped herself down in Lyn-Z’s normal seat.

Gerard turned, expecting her to have something to say to him but she decisively ignored him and asked Steve, “Where’s Lyn-Z?”

“You mean she isn’t here?” Steve said with mock surprise.

“Okay, I’ll skip to the chase,” Chantal said. “Has Jimmy mentioned me?”

That was not the chase Gerard was interested in. Damn Steve and his sarcasm, because what if Lyn-Z really was freaking out and deciding she didn’t want to be with Gee after all.

“He said he liked watching you play DDR,” Steve said. He gave her chest a pointed look. “Can’t imagine why.”

“My DDR footwork is so awesome even these babies don’t distract from it,” Chantal said, doing a little shimmy for emphasis. 

Then Dewees distracted him with a question about his shading, and Gerard got into a discussion with him that he only got distracted from when he heard Kitty’s name being mentioned at the next table.

“Yeah, she’s pissed,” Steve said. “It’s fucking weird, seeing those two fight.”

“Relationships can rile people up,” Chantal said.

“Especially a disagreement like that,” Steve said. “They’re both in tizzies.”

Then Chantal launched into an anecdote about some fight she and Pedro had gotten into freshman year, and Gerard tuned her out, because he’d heard all he needed to.

*

That evening Gerard had band practice, and he was torn between wanting desperately to go and be there in the same room as Lyn-Z and maybe work up the courage to kiss her instead of just being the kiss-ee every time, and wanting to avoid all things practice-related because Kitty and Alicia were there and if there was one lesson his brother had taught him was that the more people around the more complicated things got.

Love would be much easier in a vacuum, Gerard thought, or even just in an isolation chamber. Then there wouldn’t be exes and opinions and preconceptions and all of the problems he had, but instead it would just be them to mesh together perfectly.

Granted, that still ignored some of the bigger issues involved with their relationship, but without those he thought the vacuum would be kind of boring.

There was no way that he was actually going to skip practice, though, so he put on his girl-attire. He decided to follow Jamia’s advice for once and squirmed into girl-jeans instead of the skirt. His t-shirt was tighter than normal and he was wearing the denim jacket he’d stolen from Jamia, and didn’t think he looked all that different from normal. He went heavy on the makeup, though, and even made an attempt to use Mikey’s straightener on his hair, and he figured that he looked like Gee instead of Gerard.

It felt more daring, almost, to go to practice in pants than in a skirt. Like he was flirting with letting them see Gerard, like he could forget about being a girl without the constant reminder of clothes that fit his body in strange ways.

None of the band acted like there was anything different about him, even though he felt like he was revealing more of himself. He just got a mumbled “Hey” from Alicia and a big grin from Lyn-Z.

Lyn-Z was wearing a soft-looking black skirt with knee socks and a tightly-buttoned jacket, and Gerard wondered if she was as conscious of her bare thighs as he was when he wore a skirt like that. 

“Where’s Kitty?” he asked, standing awkwardly halfway between Lyn-Z and Alicia, who exchanged looks.

“Running late,” Alicia said.

“She’ll be here soon,” Lyn-Z said, and Gerard didn’t think he was imagining that she sounded cranky.

“Don’t start,” Alicia told Lyn-Z, who scowled at her.

“How’s your tattoo?” Gerard asked.

Lyn-Z twisted a bit of her skirt in her hand. “Healing.”

He realized then that he hadn’t seen the final product. He was the worst tattoo buddy ever. 

“As soon as Kitty gets here I have news,” Alicia said. She was looking back and forth between them like they were doing something amusing, when Gerard was just standing there awkwardly while Lyn-Z fiddled with her bass, just like usual.

Lyn-Z surely hadn’t told Alicia anything about the kissing. Because, granted, Gerard had told everyone who knew about his singing career, but Gerard was not as cool as Lyn-Z. Gerard was well-known for not being able to keep his mouth shut, especially about something as epic as being kissed by the girl of his dreams. 

He opened his mouth and he was sure something humiliating was going to come out involving the term ‘necking’ or something else since he apparently developed the vocabulary of a McCarthy-era housewife when Lyn-Z’s lips were involved, but then Kitty came hurrying into the garage, pulling her messenger bag over her head and apologizing for being late.

“Awesome, I can share the news,” Alicia said quickly. “We have a gig!”

Silence filled the garage.

“Next Friday,” Alicia continued.

Kitty nervously twirled a drumstick and it clattered to the floor. 

“Opening!” Alicia said. “That’s way more awesome than playing a party, because that means there will be at least a couple people there paying attention to the music instead of a keg.”

Gerard’s stomach took a plummet. He was not ready to take this show out in front of an audience.

“Are you sure we’re ready?” Kitty asked skeptically. “I mean, we only know, what, four songs?”

“We’ll learn a couple more,” Alicia said, like they weren’t still learning the first four. 

“I think it’s going to be awesome,” Lyn-Z said. “We can put on a total show.”

“Uh,” Gerard said, because he’d been to enough concerts to know which of them would be expected to be the showiest. He in theory didn’t have any issues with performing in front of a crowd - he’d taken drama class sophomore year - but the idea of an audience made his role as singer suddenly _real_ instead of just something that he was doing to get closer to Lyn-Z.

“Who are we opening for?” Kitty asked.

“Dumb Luck,” Alicia replied. Gerard had heard a lot about the local music scene thanks to Mikey, and the name pinged him as vaguely familiar.

This announcement trumped any awkwardness between them, as they launched straight into practicing. None of them wanted to suck, and it was their most focused practice yet.

Gerard realized that Lyn-Z meant that she would be putting on a performance, too, as for the first time she started stomping around and rocking the fuck out while plucking at her bass. Alicia grinned at her and tossed her hair and planted her feet apart to play for a minute in the classic guitar-god pose.

Laughing, Lyn-Z crinkled her nose at Alicia and then whirled around, planted her own feet even further apart, and dipped back into a backbend.

She grinned at them upside down, and Gerard couldn’t stop staring at the tautness of her belly and the way her skirt rested on the tops of her thighs, revealing the white bandage taped over her new tattoo and the pale skin even further up her legs.

She pulled herself upright, only wobbling and readjusting her bass a little, and Gerard was still staring at her when she turned around and smiled wide at them, a loose strand of hair sticking to her lips.

Gerard was actually grateful for the guitar he was half-assedly strumming, because tight girl pants weren’t nearly as forgiving of sins as skirts were. He felt like he understood Scottish culture as a whole more thoroughly, now that he thought of it.

“We’re gonna knock ‘em dead,” Alicia proclaimed. She moved forward a few steps and brushed the hair away from Lyn-Z’s lips, mouthed something and then went back to her usual practice spot, grinning and glancing at Gerard.

He realized then that he was the only one still playing and stopped, abruptly, to the sound of the rest of the band’s laughter.

*

After a few hours Alicia finally decided that they’d made all the progress that they were going to make in one day.

Kitty told Lyn-Z, “You already know what I think,” before brushing past and ducking under the garage door before it was even fully open.

“What was that about?” Gerard asked, watching Kitty retreat.

“I’m gonna go on inside,” Alicia said. “I was going to call Pete.”

She didn’t even wind up her cords like she was obsessive about doing, she just opened the door to the kitchen and shut the door, leaving just the faded David Bowie poster taped to the back of the door staring at him and Lyn-Z.

“I guess you mentioned yesterday to them?” Gerard hazarded. 

“What was your first clue?” Lyn-Z said.

“And Kitty’s upset,” Gerard said.

“She’s just... she worries too much,” Lyn-Z said. “Because... well, she doesn’t think your heart can change just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“Oh,” Gerard said.

“She thinks she knows what’s best for me,” Lyn-Z said. “But you know, she doesn’t know everything. She could be wrong.”

Gerard hoped so. “Yeah. I mean. Hearts are fickle.”

Lyn-Z’s laughter was tinged with roughness. “Stupid fucking hearts,” she said. “But sometimes they lead you new directions.”

The way she reached her hand out was very deliberate.

“I like new directions,” Gerard said, reaching out and taking her hand in his.

Lyn-Z glanced around to make sure everything was turned off. “Let’s go for a walk.”

*

They ended up at the same park they’d had their first conversation at. This time Lyn-Z went for the swings, settling in one and pushing herself lightly with her feet. 

Gerard took the next swing over and gripped the cracked safety covering over the chains tightly. He traced his toe on the ground, making zigzags in the dirt and wood chips they covered the ground with instead of sand.

His hands felt grimy on the covering from how sweaty they’d gotten on the walk over, tightly pressed against Lyn-Z’s. She hadn’t said much and he hadn’t either, just walked, hands tight together and bumping shoulders and hips on the cramped sidewalk. Lyn-Z could have just walked in people’s lawns, but she hadn’t.

Gerard was pretty sure that was a good sign.

Gerard really didn’t want to be _that_ girl, the uncertain and self-deprecating one, but he had to hear it from Lyn-Z for this to seem real. “Are we... I mean. We’re...”

He couldn’t force out the word, because he didn’t want her to turn him down.

Lyn-Z stopped swinging, dragging her boots against the ground to come to a stop, then twisted to the side, chains cris-crossing at her waist and hands automatically moving up to grip higher above her head. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

She didn’t sound teasing or confident at all, but she also sounded like she meant it.

“Yeah,” Gerard said. “I really, really do.”

She didn’t get out of her swing, so Gerard didn’t either. Instead he mimicked her, holding high onto the chains and pulling himself towards her with baby steps. They met in the middle and leaned forward and kissed.

Gerard could feel the chain pressing against his chest and his feet had to stay planted to keep from swinging away from Lyn-Z, and after a moment he reached over and grasped the chain of her swing to hold himself steady. She did the same to his swing on the opposite side, fingers laced just below his, brushing against his jacket sleeve.

The majority of his attention was focused on the way he was actually _kissing_ her instead of just letting her kiss him. The way their lips slid against each other, the combined taste of their lip gloss, the heat of her mouth, the awkward clank of their teeth and bump of their noses before they got the angles right. The taste of her tongue as she, more bold than him, deepened the kiss.

Gerard was so wrapped up in the kiss that it took a second for him to realize when it ended. He slowly opened his eyes, and Lyn-Z had removed her hand from her own swing’s chain to touch lightly to her mouth.

Then she reached out and traced around his lips, feather-light. He wanted to close his eyes to feel her fingertips more acutely but couldn’t look away from her. From the soft look on her face that made her look even prettier than she did when she looked fierce while rocking out.

He didn’t think a lot of people got to see that look.

“Am I making a mistake?” she said quietly, almost like she didn’t realize she was saying anything at all.

He could probably get away with not answering. “I hope not,” he said. “Because it doesn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

This time he kissed her, leaning forward in his swing enough that he was almost standing, and cupping a hand around her cheek.

When he pulled away, she smiled. She raised her feet and let the swing twirl her around, and he did the same, laughing.

He couldn’t be making a mistake, not if it felt like this.

*

The next few days were spent in sharp contrast: his days were long and spent wishing he was with Lyn-Z, and his evenings with her flew by far too quickly.

Time flew by too quickly when he was with her, talking and kissing and spending hours at the park or sitting on her back porch while they could hear her parents’ television through the window that overlooked them. 

When he left he could never quite remember how so much time had passed. 

But the thing was, with each passing meeting it was getting harder and harder for Gerard to keep the distance necessary for his girl-disguise to work. Lyn-Z was no shrinking violet, that was for damn sure.

Gerard had acted like it wouldn’t be a big deal whenever his friends brought it up but _holy shit_ was it a big deal. The first time Lyn-Z’s hand crept underneath his skirt - nowhere near his junk, even, just on his thigh barely under the material - he jerked back and stood up and stammered out an excuse about having to get home and fled like a giant chicken.

He hadn’t confessed any of this to Mikey or Frank or anyone yet because he was happy, he really was, it was just...

It was just that he was scared if he fled like that anymore that Lyn-Z would start to get the wrong idea. That she would think that he wasn’t into her, which was as far from the truth as an impression could possibly get.

And he hadn’t so much as felt her up because he felt kind of like a complete and total tool because Lyn-Z thought he was an awesome chick named Gee, which he really wasn’t. Not in the least.

He definitely couldn’t talk to Mikey about this. There were too many fucking similarities to Mikey’s issues with Pete - Gerard was a little creeped out about that, actually - and while Frank understood, Gerard wasn’t quite sure he would offer the right perspective on it. 

So he ended up in Chantal’s living room on a Sunday morning, eating cereal and watching some cartoons that her mother had taped at some point during Chantal’s early childhood off of television, commercials and all. 

“So Lyn-Z is making all the moves and you’re acting like a coy motherfucker,” Chantal summarized after he spilled his heart out on the table.

“Less coy, more scandalized Victorian virgin,” Gerard said glumly. “She wasn’t even getting _handsy_ with me and I fucking fled.”

“You haven’t talked about sex at all?” Chantal said.

“I thought I’d have some time!” Gerard said. “I thought the perfect excuse would come to me.”

“You could tell her you have herpes,” Chantal said reassuringly. “And that there are some nasty contagious things going on down there.”

Gerard looked at Chantal in horror. “How the hell are herpes more acceptable than a dick?”

Chantal held her hands up in front of her in a ‘chill out’ pose. “I was just trying to be helpful! You could, you know, just tell Lyn-Z she’s moving too fast for your comfort.”

“But I want... but I don’t... I just hate that I’m lying to her,” Gerard said. “And taking total advantage. She’s going to fucking hate me.”

“I thought you’d decided it was worth it,” Chantal said, the seriousness of the moment ruined by the fact that she was looking in her bowl of cereal picking out her favorite marshmallow shapes as she said it.

“I thought...” Gerard took a breath. “It’s just that now Lyn-Z is _real_ , you know? She isn’t a fantasy anymore. She’s real and she’s even more fucking amazing than I thought she was when I decided I was in love with her, and I’m not sure it’s worth it. Having her hate me, just so that I could know that.”

“You could maybe find out why she’s moving so fast,” Chantal said. “I don’t think Lyn-Z usually jumps right into stuff like that. That’s more of a me thing to do.”

Gerard gave her an perplexed look of innocence.

Chantal threw a rainbow-shaped marshmallow at him. “Don’t give me that innocent look, ho bag. I know perfectly well that rumors get around.”

The opening was so big that Gerard didn’t have the heart to make the obvious joke. “But she isn’t really leaping into anything. It’s just... there are _sparks_ , okay, fucking fireworks.”

Chantal gave him a skeptical look. “Still, you might want to talk to her about something that isn’t comic books or music, okay?”

“We talk about things!” Gerard protested. “And how about all those intense discussions you’ve been having with Jimmy?”

“Yesterday we had an AIM conversation about whether or not the jackalope was a myth that got pretty intense,” Chantal said. She flopped back, staring at the ceiling and spilling cereal on the couch. Gerard figured that was why she hadn’t added milk to her bowl, as she didn’t even attempt to dig the cereal out of the cushions.

“But you’d been chatting before, right?” Gerard said. Chantal had mentioned a few messages back and forth as being the basis of her relationship with Jimmy before Gerard had entered the picture.

Chantal sighed dramatically. “I can’t make a move! He doesn’t know I’m awesome yet.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s aware of your awesome,” Gerard said. In the background a commercial told them how rad an old-school Nerf gun was.

Chantal shook her head. “I keep being an idiot, and that means I can never make a move, because I don’t want to just be some girl, you know? I want to be his best friend.”

“We’re both screwed,” Gerard said, joining Chantal in staring at the ceiling.

His plan was stupid and there was no way he was going to be able to get through a make out session with Lyn-Z without freaking out or accidentally letting her see hard proof that he was a lying liar who lied. And, worst, there was no easy way out that would allow him to not hurt Lyn-Z’s feelings. He was an idiot. He should just join a monastery, preferably in Tibet or somewhere far, far away where he would never have to see Lyn-Z’s angry face. 

“Magical solution to our problems, please appear,” Chantal said, waving her bowl of Lucky Charms around like it held mystical powers. 

Nothing happened. 

*  
Lyn-Z called that night and Gerard spent the first half hour of the conversation (about how they were going to have to come up with a totally kickass band name to offset Alicia’s kitschy suggestions) thinking about what Chantal said and fretting about bringing up the thing about how he was uncomfortable with how fast things were moving.

Because if it were Gerard she was dating, then he would have no problem with how things were going. He would be delighted, actually. But because he was Gerard and not the girl that she thought he was, he had to do _something_. 

He didn’t want Lyn-Z to find out he was lying to her by accidentally getting a handful of dick. He didn’t want Lyn-Z to find out at all.

He didn’t want this to end before it had even begun, because he could remember his fond daydreams about holding Lyn-Z’s hand and that was now _reality_ and he was not prepared to give that up.

If he had to lie to keep her, then he would. He didn’t like it, not one bit, but he couldn’t go back to how things were. He couldn’t break up with her, and he couldn’t go back to seeing her all the time and not getting to have conversations with her about nothing and getting to kiss her.

“I just want the band to have a fucking awesome name, right?” Lyn-Z said. “You know what happens to bands with shitty names.”

“They disappear into the cosmos never to be heard from again?” Gerard guessed.

“Damn straight they do and deserve it!” Lyn-Z said. “Look at Mr. Mister. And the Test Icicles.”

“I am cringing,” Gerard said, since Lyn-Z couldn’t guess why both of those examples just added to the uncomfortable pit that was taking up residence in his stomach.

“So we have to take back the band,” Lyn-Z said. “Because we cannot be known as Beg Yer Parton.”

“Agreed,” Gerard said.

“So you’re a little quiet tonight,” Lyn-Z said.

“I’m not,” Gerard said automatically.

He could feel Lyn-Z’s raised eyebrow even before she said, “Sure, hon.”

“I’m… I don’t know,” Gerard said, twisting the edge of his blanket around his fingers nervously. “I’m just… I left the other day. You know.”

There was a pause and this time Gerard had no idea what Lyn-Z was doing. He could picture her in her bedroom, lying on her back on her bed and fiddling with her blanket nervously just like he was, but it didn’t feel right. He didn’t really know her well enough to picture what she was doing, like he was with Mikey and Frank and Ray and even Bob.

He really hoped this lasted long enough for him to able to, because then at least he could picture her once she hated him.

“We haven’t really… I haven’t really asked you if you were cool with this,” Lyn-Z said. 

“This?” Gerard asked.

“The hot girl-on-girl action?” Lyn-Z said with a nervous laugh. 

“Oh. That,” Gerard said. Fuck. This was the opportunity he had been hoping for and he really wished they were still making fun of Alicia’s apparent desire to be known as the Hell Dollys.

“I just don’t know what… I mean, you haven’t really… I’m not doing this wrong, am I?” she managed to say.

“No!” Gerard said. “You’re perfect!”

“We haven’t really…” Lyn-Z trailed off again. “Fuck, I suck at this shit.”

“You don’t suck,” Gerard said. “Granted, you haven’t really had an opportunity to, yet…”

He trailed off in horror. That was not what he wanted to say. That was neither appropriate for a burgeoning lesbian relationship _or_ in line with his whole plan to slow things down between them.

But Lyn-Z just laughed. “That’s hardly my fault, now, is it?”

“Yeah, I did kind of run away,” Gerard admitted. Lyn-Z’s laughter stopped. “It wasn’t because… God, Lyn-Z, you’re all I want. I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s just… I don’t want to ruin things. I don’t want to rush and fuck things up and lose you.”

Every single word was the absolute truth, and Gerard felt more vulnerable than ever as he held his breath waiting for Lyn-Z’s response.

“You are such a girl,” Lyn-Z said, and he could hear the teasing grin in her voice. “But I understand that.”

Gerard didn’t fail to notice that she didn’t say that she felt the same.

“And,” she added, as though she didn’t want to have him being the only one confessing feelings, “It’s a good thing one of us is thinking. I’m just… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Are you…” Gerard didn’t want to know the fucking answer to this question but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Do you still have feelings for… I mean, still?” 

He didn’t say Kitty’s name, at least. He’d noticed that Lyn-Z got annoyed when he did, and he could understand why. They were in a band with Kitty and it wouldn’t do if there was too much weirdness. Being vague at least gave them the semblance of distance from her.

“How did you… oh fuck, that night at the party,” Lyn-Z said. “It’s complicated.”

Gerard didn’t know what to say to that.

“Did I really just say that it was complicated?” Lyn-Z said, saving Gerard from having to come up with something to say to that. “I’m a total douchebag.”

“Not a _total_ douchebag,” Gerard told her. “I’m sure it is!”

“I don’t really want to go into the nitty gritty,” Lyn-Z said. “It would… It doesn’t really have much relevance to, you know, us.”

“Oh,” Gerard said. He thought it was pretty damn relevant, but didn’t want to push it. He already knew how fragile their relationship was, even if Lyn-Z didn’t.

“I mean… Damn it, I can never talk about this shit without messing up,” Lyn-Z said. 

“I just didn’t think I had a chance with you,” Gerard said. “And then you kissed me and it was a choirs singing hallelujah fantastic fucking moment, but… I’ll understand, okay, if you don’t… I mean, if your feelings for someone else are stronger. We haven’t known each other very long.”

He really, really, really hoped that she didn’t take that as a cue to break up, but Gerard couldn’t not only lie to her but date her when she was in love with someone else. There was only so much he could handle, and the more he thought about Lyn-Z breaking up with someone she had genuine feelings for only to go out with some other girl who turned out to be a guy lying to her about the most basic of things about himself, the more he felt like he didn’t deserve her at all. 

“Gee, no, it’s not like that at all,” Lyn-Z said. “It’s like… I didn’t even know them, really, but I was just drawn in, even though I knew it would never work. So there are a few lingering feelings, yeah, but I can’t just wait around forever hoping for the impossible, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said softly. “I know.”

There was a lull, and Gerard realized that Lyn-Z had described his own situation, not what he knew of her and Kitty’s. He started to ask about it, but she spoke up again.

“And we click, don’t we?” Lyn-Z’s voice sounded more hopeful than anything else. His doubts flew from his mind.

“Yes,” Gerard said confidently, because if there was one thing he was sure of, the one thing that was fueling him keeping up this farce, was that there were serious sparks between him and Lyn-Z. They clicked in a way he’d never really felt before, not even with Bert when he was sure that they were perfect, and even though he had a hell of a lot more obstacles this time he couldn’t help but hope that they would be together for a long time.

He knew he was too young to think the word forever, but he wasn’t too jaded to hope.

“And we might not know each other really well yet,” Lyn-Z said, “but I really want to. I’m kind of surprised at how much I want to _know_ you.”

“Me too,” Gerard said. “I’m really glad, too. That you like me. Because I really like you.”

Lyn-Z laughed. “So we’re good?”

“We’re gold,” Gerard replied. 

“So, since we’re getting to know each other,” Lyn-Z said. “Let’s hear about your family. You never mention them.”

“That’s because you’d never believe anything I had to say about them,” Gerard said. “My mother is indescribable.”

“Come on, she can’t be that bad,” Lyn-Z teased.

“I didn’t say she was bad! What you sayin’ bout my momma?” Gerard shot back.

“Only that she must be one piece of work.” 

Gerard rolled on his side, pulling his blanket around him and grinning as he tried to explain his family to Lyn-Z without replicating any of the stories Alicia had told her about the Way household, and finding himself sharing more and more tiny, silly stories that no one else should care about but that Lyn-Z laughed and teased him over like they were actually entertaining. 

He fell asleep with the phone still clutched loosely in his hand.


	6. Chapter 6

When Gerard woke up the next morning, he remembered making a date to go do something _really fun_ with Lyn-Z that day and couldn’t come up with a single thing. Lyn-Z was awesome but even she wouldn’t think that going to the comic book store and digging through the quarter bin for hidden treasures was a hot date.

He called Frank and asked him for advice.

“Snuggle on the couch and play video games,” Frank replied automatically. “That’s what me and Jamia are doing today.”

“Yes, but me and Lyn-Z _aren’t_ an old married couple,” Gerard pointed out. “I’m also kind of trying to avoid the alone-and-snuggling scenario right now, as that can lead to other physical activities that will lead to my being outed as a fake.”

“Sucks to be you,” Frank snorted. Gerard was really glad he’d gone to Chantal with his sex angst.

“Come on, there has to be something we can go do that isn’t soul-suckingly corny,” Gerard said. “Because I’m not going to take her on a picnic or something lame like that.”

“You could go to the roller rink and hold hands during couples skate. Sing along to the Bee Gees. Bust out some moves to Abba,” Frank said.

Gerard hung up on him and went upstairs to find Mikey. Mikey was sitting in the living room with their mother, texting furiously and ignoring the episode of _Dark Shadows_ their mother was watching as though it weren’t a video she’d seen a hundred times before.

“I need somewhere awesome I can take Lyn-Z,” Gerard announced. “I told her we were going to have fun.”

“There’s going to be a party tonight at Sarah’s,” Mikey said.

“I was thinking more daylight and in public activities,” Gerard said. “Parties can lead to no good.” 

“When did your brother turn into my father?” their mom stage-whispered to Mikey.

“About the time he got a girlfriend who doesn’t know he’s a guy,” Mikey replied.

“Oh, you got her to date you?” she said, delighted. “I told you you were the prettiest belle at the ball, darling!”

“Prettiest belle with balls, you mean,” Mikey corrected.

“Balls I’m trying to keep under wraps,” Gerard said, waving a hand to bring the attention back to the matter at hand. “Suggestions!”

“Go to the mall,” his mom offered.

“Something _fun_ ,” Gerard stressed.

“Bring her to my salon and I’ll do your hair!” she said, perking up. “Then I can meet this young lady who has you all twisted up in knots.”

“That is a bad idea,” Gerard said, trying to imagine his mother not embarrassing him and failing. “Besides I don’t think she’s really a ‘go and get your hair done’ kind of girl.”

“Everyone’s that kind of girl,” his mother replied airily. “It’s soothing.”

Gerard shook his head. He knew his mother well enough to know that she wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut and would start sharing embarrassing stories and would end up at diaper changing stories, which would inevitably end in ‘pee to the face’ stories which just wouldn’t mesh with Gee’s backstory.

“I’ll come up with something,” he said.

He called Chantal, who immediately said, “Putt-putt golf.”

“Uh. That’s not awesome,” Gerard said.

“They opened up this new course out on the highway,” Chantal replied. “It’s called Monsters of Mayhem Mini Golf.”

That did sound awesome. 

“I just asked James if he wants to go,” Chantal continued. “So we can double! It’ll be a rip-roaring good time.”

“I’m not sure…” Gerard said.

“Come on, it’ll be perfect, Gee,” Chantal said. “I mean, if you and Lyn-Z are there all couple-y, then James will realize we’re on a date without me having to tell him that I decided to ask him to putt-putt for our romantic first date. And the pressure’s off you, because there’s no way Lyn-Z will get all hot and bothered while at a putt-putt golf course with her best friend.”

That, Gerard supposed, was true enough.

“If it’s okay with Lyn-Z,” he said. 

“Call her!” Chantal said and hung up quickly so he wouldn’t delay.

Gerard was really kind of stuck. He called Lyn-Z and said, “So we were talking about hanging out today?”

“Yeah, you got any ideas?”

“I was thinking we could go putt-putt golfing,” Gerard said, cringing.

“Seriously?” Lyn-Z said. Her voice was a little higher than normal, and he couldn’t tell if it was excitement or disbelief.

“Chantal was telling me about this place she’s going this afternoon? With Jimmy? I think she said it was Monsters of Mayhem Putt-Putt Golf,” Gerard said. “I don’t know what sorts of monsters causing what kinds of mayhem, but it does sound like it has promise.”

“That sounds completely awesome!” Lyn-Z said. “I fucking love mini-golf.”

Gerard blinked. “So it’s not desperately dorky?”

“What gave you the impression I was the sort of girl who turned her nose up at desperately dorky?” Lyn-Z replied. “You said Chantal was going with _Jimmy_?”

“That’s what she said!” Gerard replied. 

“I don’t get it,” Lyn-Z teased.

“You can’t see it, but I’m sticking my tongue out at you,” Gerard replied. “Chantal seems to think that Jimmy will realize it’s a date if they double with us.”

“Didn’t work for me when I dragged him along to the great DDR-off at Chantal’s,” Lyn-Z said lightly.

“Huh?” Gerard said, then, “Wait, what?”

“I’ll see you at three,” Lyn-Z said, laughing, as she hung up.

*

Gerard realized at two that he had no idea what he should _wear_ on a putt-putt date and hurried upstairs, peeking in rooms until he found Mikey guiltily closing something out on the family computer.

“You know I wouldn’t judge your taste in porn,” Gerard teased.

“It wasn’t porn,” Mikey protested. “I was just… doing research.”

“Okay,” Gerard said. He needed Mikey’s help more than he needed to tease his baby brother. “Could you research me up some fashion advice? I’m going putt-putting.”

“You were serious about the eliminating the chance for hanky-panky, weren’t you?” Mikey replied, following Gerard back down the hall to the basement. 

“It was Chantal’s idea,” Gerard said. “She’s going to this monster-themed putt-putt place and wants me to go along.”

“I’m going to read between the lines here and assume this is a double date,” Mikey said.

“Lyn-Z is apparently a big mini-golf fan,” Gerard said. He pushed open the door to his room and pointed to the tangle of clothes he’d dumped on his bed from his girl clothes basket.

Mikey began to prod through it, pulling out a pair of stockings and asking, “Do you ever wash these?”

“Of course I do,” Gerard said indignantly. 

Mikey held the stockings by one foot and raised an eyebrow at Gerard. 

“Okay, maybe I don’t know how,” Gerard replied. “But they don’t smell that bad. And besides, they go under stuff so it’s like, hidden.”

“She’s gonna figure out you’re not a chick when you smell like ball sweat,” Mikey pointed out. 

“I don’t think I’m a skanky enough girl to be with someone with a residual reek like that,” Gerard said, but he sniffed at the clothes Mikey tossed at him carefully anyway, just to make sure. Maybe he should Febreeze this stuff.

“So wear pants,” Mikey said.

“Bad plan,” Gerard said. “Skirts are definitely better.”

“For feeling pretty?” Mikey asked.

“That too,” Gerard said, because skirts definitely had that effect on him. He still wasn’t over the swish of them, he reckoned. “But they’re looser. Tend to be more forgiving than skinny jeans.”

Mikey rolled his eyes and made Gerard put on accessories that he thought were overkill but that made Mikey nod in approval. He had to run to get to Chantal’s before Jimmy was due to arrive with Lyn-Z.

Jimmy showed up alone fifteen minutes late. He was wearing a paint-splattered tuxedo jacket over a tight, torn pink shirt. Gerard felt underdressed in his t-shirt and was kind of glad that Mikey had talked him into the fingerless lace gloves, but he reminded himself firmly that Jimmy wasn’t his date.

“Hi,” Jimmy told Chantal. He sounded a little nervous, and Gerard though that Chantal hadn’t really needed to bring along another couple for Jimmy to realize this was a date.

“Hi,” Chantal replied. “Ready for some golf action? I got my swing down, you’re in for a challenge.” She mimed swinging a golf club.

“Please, you couldn’t putt your way out of a paper bag,” Jimmy replied. “I’m the putt-master, motherfucker!”

They both turned and looked expectantly at Gerard. “I’ll… putt you both away,” he said.

Jimmy grinned and said, “I did not know you were a pun-ster.”

“Only when the time is right,” Gerard replied.

“The time is always right for a pun,” Chantal said. “Pun time is fun time!”

Gerard followed them out to Jimmy’s car and climbed into the backseat, pushing a Nazi helmet and a feathered headdress aside. “Are you starting up a Bizarro Village People?” 

“…I might have to now,” Jimmy said.

Gerard settled in his seat and smoothed down his skirt and kicked at the garbage in the floor to make a little more foot space, then slowly realized that Jimmy hadn’t started the car. 

Jimmy turned around in his seat and stared at Gerard. Gerard squirmed in his seat and cast the back of Chantal’s head a desperate look. Chantal didn’t turn around; she seemed to be concentrating on flipping through Jimmy’s cd collection.

“You’re the little minx that’s lead our Lyn-Z astray,” Jimmy said.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a minx,” Gerard said. 

“Lyn-Z is one of my best friends, you know,” Jimmy said. “I don’t know you very well. You could be some sort of home wrecker.”

“I’m very nice,” Gerard said. “I don’t wreck homes.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

“I only very rarely wreck homes,” Gerard amended. “And I really like Lyn-Z. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”

“Maybe not deliberately,” Jimmy said. “What if someone else stood a chance with her? And what if she turned them down because you’ve somehow wooed her to the side of rainbows and buttercups, even though she’d been into that person forever? What would you do then?”

“If Lyn-Z wants to dump me, that’s her business,” Gerard replied, glaring. “Not yours.” 

“Are we seriously going through this macho bullshit?” Chantal said. She rolled her eyes and propped her feet up on the dash. 

“I’m just sizing her up,” Jimmy replied. “Future reference and all that.”

“You do remember Gee’s my friend, right?” Chantal pointed out. 

Gerard sunk down in his seat. If Chantal and Jimmy’s first date sucked it would now officially be his fault, as he was the cause of their first argument. 

Jimmy finally started the car. “And Lyn-Z’s mine, so I gotta look out for her when she suddenly drags home a mystery girl.”

“No one’s dragging anyone,” Gerard said.

Jimmy gave him a look. “Maybe you just don’t realize it yet.”

He finally put the car in gear. Chantal stuck a CD in the player and said, “Young MC, you guys, no bullshit when Young MC’s on.”

“You just wanted to see me bust a move,” Jimmy said, managing to do a swaying dance without swerving off the road.

“Your moves are busted, all right,” Chantal replied, grinning and pumping her fists. 

By the time they pulled up to Lyn-Z’s house, all three of them were singing along and dancing. Lyn-Z opened the door next to Gerard and climbed over him, stepping on the garbage and falling forward, laughing, into the headdress. “Jimmy, seriously, you don’t need to prepare for sudden time travel.”

“This ride is almost as sweet as a fucking Delorean, babe, so who knows where I might end up,” Jimmy shot back. “I might need to bang your mom back when she was hot.”

Gerard shoved the stuff even closer to the other door as Lyn-Z plopped down in the middle of the seat, grabbing a cowboy hat and perching it on her head. “My momma doesn’t remember the Wild West like yours does, sweetie.”

She grinned at Gerard, and he tilted the cowboy hat up and pecked her on the lips just because he could.

“Smooch on your own time!” Chantal announced, looking over her shoulder to scrunch her nose up at them. “We’ve got some serious putt-putting ahead of us.”

Lyn-Z leaned in close and said, “I don’t get the correlation.”

“My concentration’s already ruined,” Gerard whispered back, squeezing Lyn-Z’s hand and beaming when she grinned and tucked her head against his shoulder. Lyn-Z was his _girlfriend_ and it was pretty much the most amazing facet of his life. Totally worth everything, he thought.

The mini-golf course was just off the highway, and when they pulled in Gerard knew for certain that this was going to be just as awesome as Chantal had promised. The sign was decorated with tattered ghosts made out of what looked like sheets, and the entire place had a slightly run-down look, despite the fact that it had to be relatively new for Gerard to have never noticed it before.

They went to the window and got putters and balls, which were colorful with little monster faces painted on them. Jimmy made Gerard trade with him so that Jimmy could have the skeleton, and Gerard ended up with a little vampire golf ball. 

Gerard vaguely recognized the kid working from an art class the previous year. The Chopper or the Butcher or something apt for the red-paint-splattered booth he was renting green and purple putters from. Thankfully the kid didn’t so much as give Gerard a second look.

On the other hand, it was kind of insulting Gerard didn’t get a second look. He was looking hot, damn it.

He was bumping his vampire golf ball up against Lyn-Z’s neck as she teasingly bared her teeth and made her werewolf golf ball attack his arm when he heard a familiar voice from across the parking lot.

“Hey you guys!” 

He turned around to see Alicia jogging across the lot, Mikey trailing slowly along behind her. She waved. “You’re heard about this place too?”

“Just today,” Lyn-Z replied. “Chantal knew about it.”

“And now my secret’s clearly been let out of the bag,” Chantal said.

“Yeah, the cat ran right out of that bag,” Jimmy agreed.

Chantal replied automatically, “Not on a first date.”

Mikey snorted. Chantal flipped him off.

“Everyone know everyone?” Alicia said.

“Yeah, Mikey, this is Gee and Chantal and Jimmy,” Lyn-Z said. Gerard couldn’t look at his brother without laughing or doing something odd for someone meeting their band mate’s boyfriend for supposedly the first time, so he awkwardly tossed his golf ball a couple times and dropped it and had to chase it several feet down the sidewalk.

When he straightened up Chantal rolled her eyes at him. Mikey was at the counter getting putters and golf balls for him and Alicia, and Gerard was sure to fall to the back of the group after Mikey handed Alicia her ghost golf ball and putter and hissed at Mikey, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out what this ball is supposed to be?” Mikey replied, holding up a purple golf ball with one giant eye staring out. 

“It’s a purple people eater,” Gerard replied automatically. “And don’t slip up.”

They passed the rental booth. Mikey raised an eyebrow at Gerard, clearly telling him he was being an idiot, and said to everyone, “Do you think I should trade for a more awesome golf ball? Purple people eaters don’t kick much ass.”

“It’s doubtful,” Alicia said. “”And you never know, one eyed dancing aliens with a penchant for rock could totally kick ass.”

Gerard returned to Lyn-Z’s side. She gave him a weird look but just asked him which grave he thought would start off a silly siren and confetti if she hit it with her golf ball.

“R.I.P. Van Winkle,” Gerard replied automatically. Lyn-Z lined up her shot and missed by a mile, and spent her next few swings managing to get it in one of the other two graves they were aiming for.

Gerard didn’t fare much better, but he was consoled by the fact that his turn being over meant that he could concentrate on other things. 

Like, for instance, the way Lyn-Z joined Chantal in a bouncing cheer for Jimmy as he attempted a ricochet shot his first time up to putt. The cheer mostly seemed to consist of “You suck!” interspersed with “Yay!”s, so Gerard didn’t feel too bad that he hadn’t earned a cheering section of his own.

The group began to mesh comfortably over the next few holes, each featuring a new scary scene, and Chantal and Mikey seemed to not have any trouble keeping Gerard’s secret out of their heckles until they reached the Silence of the Lambs hole, where they were expected to hit their golf ball into a basket that would then be lowered down a well.

Gerard couldn’t really blame Mikey for turning to him as Gerard got into position for the shot and saying, “Tuck it in there.”

Chantal’s “Come on, Gee, sink your ball into that hole!” was a little less oblique, and Gerard kept his head down concentrating on the shot until he was sure he was no longer blushing or glowering. He completely missed the shot, but didn’t really mind because it meant the attention of the group was off him.

“Mikey and Chantal are getting along really well,” Lyn-Z commented when they lagged behind on the way to the Cave of Terrors. 

“They are,” Gerard said. 

“You and Mikey seem to click, too,” Lyn-Z said. “I didn’t think that he was usually so unguarded when he first meets someone.”

“Well, we’ve met before,” Gerard said, trying frantically to remember his backstory. He was pretty sure he’d used the Mikey bootleg card.

“You didn’t say anything about that to Alicia the other day,” Lyn-Z said, and Gerard realized with a start that she was _jealous_. Or at least suspicious of his relationship with Mikey. 

“Well, it’s not like I talk to him or anything,” Gerard said, trying to backtrack without sounding like he was backtracking. “He just reminds me of my… cousin.”

Gerard was going to post that picture of Mikey getting teabagged by Frank on the internet. That was exactly what he’d earned for date-crashing and making Lyn-Z think Gee and Mikey had something going on.

“Okay,” Lyn-Z said dubiously. She had kind of a strange expression, one that made Gerard suddenly conscious of all the ways that Gee resembled Gerard. “Come on. Let’s get back to putt-putt.”

They rejoined the group, where Alicia and Jimmy were having a spirited conversation about the most awesome hairstyle they’d ever sported.

“Devilocks automatically win,” Mikey informed them, glancing up from where he was tapping his golfball towards the hole in three-feet increments. 

“Dreadlocks,” Alicia told him, grinning. “Way less maintenance.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Gee?”

“Uh,” Gerard said. “I’m pretty boring.” Mikey was totally smirking. “I had a bowl cut in sixth grade.”

He remembered belatedly that as a girl he could totally have invented something awesome and no one would have known. 

“Oh man, I totally win this contest,” Lyn-Z said.

“Nothing beats dreads,” Alicia said confidently.

“I shaved my head,” Lyn-Z offered, grinning. “It would have been awesome, too, if it hadn’t turned out my head wasn’t nearly as pretty as Lex Luther’s.”

“Okay, that’s crazier than dreads,” Alicia agreed.

“I had a foot-tall pink Mohawk,” Jimmy said, gesturing wildly with his putter and nearly taking Mikey out. Mikey glared.

“Girl with a shaved head wins,” Gerard judged, reaching over and squeezing Lyn-Z’s hand.

“Yeah, guys are allowed to have crazy hair,” Alicia said. She gave Lyn-Z a high five. “Us girls, on the other hand, have to be warriors to shave our heads.”

Jimmy kept arguing his case that foot-tall pink Mohawks were crazy on anyone up to and including space aliens, and Gerard didn’t let go of Lyn-Z’s hand until it was her turn to putt. Mikey wandered over to him, and Gerard valiantly to use the mental connection Frank swore existed between the Way brothers to tell Mikey to get the hell away, that Lyn-Z was suspicious.

Mikey, the little bastard, ignored all mental pleas. “Did you see the Bates Motel hole coming up? You have to aim for the _shower drain_.”

“Seriously?” Gerard said, lighting up before remembering that he wasn’t supposed to be close to his brother. Fuck. He glared at Mikey.

Mikey’s eyes widened slightly and he took a step backwards, and Gerard had the feeling that he was going to be getting a slew of oh-so hilarious texts from his friends after Mikey told them that Gerard was afraid his girlfriend was going to be jealous of his brother.

Lyn-Z had missed her putt by inches on her first attempt, and was now eyeing it and making faces as she lined up for her second putt, and Gerard cheered her on. She beamed back at him, and then missed the putt wildly.

“Fuck,” she said, chasing down the ball as it bounced off the cave wall. She hit the ball again wildly, and looked frustrated as it took her another several tries to get it back in the vicinity of the hole. It was easily the worst hole she’d putted the entire afternoon. 

“Are you alright?” Chantal asked as Lyn-Z finally finished her turn, scowling as she wrote down her abysmal score.

“My par isn’t,” Lyn-Z said, pushing her bangs behind her ear. “I’m just annoyed. I think the floor in here slopes!”

“I didn’t have any problem,” Jimmy told her, sticking out his tongue. “You just suck.”

“Like you’re a baller,” Lyn-Z shot back, causing Mikey to snort. She glanced over quickly, eyes darting back and forth between them in a way that made Gerard finally move away from his brother back to Lyn-Z’s side.

He peered over her shoulder at her score card. “Hey! Those aren’t numbers, missy.”

“What?” she said after a second’s hesitation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your boxes are filled with little monsters!” Gerard said delightedly, reaching for the paper. Lyn-Z held it out of reach. 

“Not all monsters!” she argued, and Gerard made an attempt to lunge for the paper.

“Nuh-uh!” Lyn-Z said, giggling as she jumped back, and Gerard followed her, stumbling into her. She reached around and steadied him, holding him up against her as they took a few steps in either direction, pressed tight and trying to not overbalance.

She was smiling, looking at him, and he felt emboldened by his fear and his increasing certainty that this wasn’t going to last much longer. He kissed her, and she pressed up flush against him, hips against his, and he prayed as he tried to not lose himself, something he wasn’t entirely successful with.

She tasted like cigarettes and the cherry cola she’d been drinking on the drive over, and Gerard thought that this was the most perfect moment in his life. She was kissing him back, not the least bit hesitant. Rather, she was insistent, like the world was crumbling around them, arms around his neck.

“There are kids around,” Alicia said wryly as she passed them, Mikey behind her and decidedly not looking in their direction. 

“We won’t wait up,” Jimmy said wryly, hitting Gerard lightly in the ankle with his putter as he passed them on his way to the next hole. “Though you should remember that the Bates Motel is _that way_.”

Lyn-Z took her hand off Gerard for long enough to flip him off, then she dropped her hand down to his hip. His most coherent thought was about how _close_ she was, her hand and her body, pressed against him and kissing him and touching him, and then he realized that he had to take a step back, _now_ , or else all his lies were going to come into the light here in a foam cave in the middle of a putt-putt course. 

All he wanted to do, though was stay like this. He could get away with this. He could kiss her and press against her and have her hand right _here_ , hot against his hip even though the denim of his skirt, and… and…

He took an abrupt step back, interested only in getting his hips as far from hers as possible. He was only half-hard, but it was more than enough to be noticeable on someone who was supposed to be freaking _concave_ instead.

“We should catch up with the group,” he said, like it was important lest they get horribly murdered or lost or something. It was taking all his self-control to not clasp his hands in front of his crotch, even though he knew that would just draw attention to himself.

A glance down reassured him that nothing was particularly noticeable, and he shoved an errant lock of hair behind his ear.

“Okay,” Lyn-Z said after a brief pause. “Yeah. Let’s.”

*

When the putt-putting had lost its joy – around the time Jimmy had decided to scale the fake Empire State Building to save the Faye Dunaway Barbie from a King Kong that turned out to be a gorilla suit stuffed with newspaper and a mannequin, creepily enough, and had broken off the spire accidentally – they all went out something to eat.

“I just think that the band name is important,” Lyn-Z said, shaking a French fry at Alicia. “And the Hell Dollys isn’t exactly the image we should go for.”

“It’s awesome!” Alicia said. “What could be more punk?”

“It sounds like the name of a goth Lolita band,” Jimmy said. “Or wizard rock for Chucky movies.”

“That would be kind of kickass,” Chantal said. “The songs could be about how hard it is to be plastic.”

“Mikey, you agree with me, right?” Alicia said, bumping her shoulder against his.

“Maybe you should brainstorm,” Mikey said. Alicia stuck her tongue out at him. “What? I’m not in the band.”

“Brainstorming is good,” Lyn-Z said. 

“We could come up with something we all like,” Gerard agreed.

“Like Parton Me or something?” Jimmy said. 

“Or the Dollywoodcutters,” Mikey said, looking at Gerard. Gerard flipped him off under the table, not even caring that Mikey couldn’t see it.

Lyn-Z snorted. “That’s more riot grrl than punk rock.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Gerard replied, pushing his hair behind his ear.

Mikey and Alicia bumped shoulders again, and Alicia announced, “We’re gonna take off, guys.”

“Have fun, snickerdoodles,” Jimmy said. “Be safe!”

“Always,” Alicia laughed, and Gerard waved as they got up and left the diner. 

Jimmy had started feeding Chantal French fries, and Gerard was pretty sure that Chantal’s plan had been a success. 

When they all finished Jimmy and Chantal dropped Gerard and Lyn-Z off at Lyn-Z’s house. They were looking cozy enough that Gerard was unwilling to ask to be taken home, and he reluctantly followed Lyn-Z into her house.

This time she led him to the living room, and Gerard was grateful. Lyn-Z’s bedroom had been torture when he thought he didn’t stand a real chance at getting with her, and now that he was increasingly certain that he was either going to have to come clean or break up with her and have Gee disappear forever, he couldn’t stand to be let further into her world.

It was taking every ounce of will he had to keep from bursting out with the truth, because Lyn-Z’s _looks_ had gotten increasingly perplexed the longer the triple date from hell had lasted.

But Lyn-Z kept up a steady stream of chatter, nervous-sounding babblings about her favorite artists and what she thought of the latest season of Rock of Love and mindless things that Gerard went along with because he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell her.

He was a coward.

*

When Gerard sat down in art class the next day, he could feel Steve staring at him.

He fidgeted in his seat a little, then turned to Dewees. “Is he staring?” he said as quietly as he could.

Dewees looked over, then waved at Steve. “Yep.”

“Why is he staring?” Gerard asked. He risked another glance at Steve’s table. Still looking at him. Gerard felt extremely conscious of every move he made.

“Want me to ask?” Dewees offered. He had the shadow of a mostly-scrubbed-off moustache still curling on his top lip. Gerard was increasingly certain he and Ray were planning some sort of typical Dewees performance, though he couldn’t even begin to guess what it would be.

“No!” Gerard replied. He looked back over. Steve was alone at his table, his project spread out over the full surface of the table like he wasn’t expecting to share with anyone. Lyn-Z was sitting next to Chantal, who was laughing and telling some sort of story that involved a lot of pouting and big arm gestures.

He tried to focus on his own project, but couldn’t stop glancing up and confirming that Steve was, in fact, still staring at him. It had been minutes! Gerard wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand the _staring_.

Did Steve suspect? That was impossible; he’d never even met Gee. Lyn-Z wasn’t even paying any attention to either of them. She was all wrapped up in her conversation with Chantal.

Gerard began to wonder if somehow he’d come to school in makeup or something, and it was all he could do to not get up to check his reflection in one of the mirrors hanging on the walls. He was wearing pants, of that much he was sure. He shoved a lock of hair behind his ear and glared down at his sketchpad. Steve was Lyn-Z’s best friend. What if her weird looks yesterday had been her figuring out his secret?

She hadn’t said anything, had called him “Gee” and kissed him goodnight the night before, but that didn’t make the knot in Gerard’s stomach loosen any. 

When he looked up again a minute later, ready to demand Steve explain why he wasn’t looking anywhere else, Steve was adding a few broad lines to the drawing in front of him, not looking anywhere near Gerard.

He glanced over at Dewees, who shrugged at him. 

 

*

Before he went to detention he stopped by Bob’s locker and banged his head against it.

“Finally lost it?” Frank asked, not looking particularly pitying.

“I’ve gone into paranoia territory,” Gerard said. “This double-life shit is tougher than I thought. I understand Peter Parker so much more now.”

“That’s scary,” Bob said, reaching around to fiddle with the combination lock. “Are you going to start whining about everything?”

“Steve _stared_ at me all during art class!” Gerard said.

“Apparently yes,” Ray said. The three of them looked more amused at Gerard’s plight than anything else. 

“It’s not funny!” Gerard said. “I think he knows!”

“Well if he knows, Lyn-Z knows,” Bob said. “Has she said anything?”

“She was talking to Chantal,” Gerard replied. “What if she was spying? Trying to extract information? Chantal isn’t exactly the Batcave! She might not be impenetrable!”

He got a bunch of snickering in response.

“Oh, fuck you,” he said. 

“It’s just that she’d let you _know_ if she’d figured it out,” Ray said. “She’s not really the type to use super secret spy moves when she could just give you a piece of her mind instead.”

“That’s true,” Gerard said slowly. The knot in his stomach was still there, but he didn’t quite feel like the world was going to end. “But she is going to find out eventually.”

“You knew that from the get-go,” Bob pointed out. “You thought it was worth it.”

“Remember?” Frank said. “All the sighing and creepy stalking? Is this worse than that?”

Definitely, Gerard thought, but he just shrugged at his friends. 

*

Ten minutes into detention Gerard’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he snuck it out under the table to check the message.

It was from Lyn-Z and it just said, _hey_.

Gerard’s shoulders stiffened, and he tried to look like he was looking at his textbook, letting his hair fall over his face so he could look through the curtain it formed to surreptitiously see what Lyn-Z was doing. 

She was focusing on something under the table, and sure enough a second later his phone buzzed again. He didn’t react.

She glanced in his direction.

Fuck.

He waited until she seemed to be focused on her own book before he crammed his phone in his pocket and hurried to the detention monitor’s desk to get permission to go to the bathroom.

He only had to beg a little and fled to the bathroom, where he checked to see what Lyn-Z had sent him. He fully expected it to be a pissed-off message outing him but instead it was just an _I miss you._

He sent back a message telling her he missed her, too, and then stared into the mirror.

In his school uniform, with the wrinkled khakis and the tie and shirt and the blazer that hid the mustard stain from lunch he looked completely different from Gee in her flouncy skirts and snug t-shirts and heavy eyeliner, but…

It wasn’t _that_ different.

Not different _enough_ , anyway, as his face was the same, and so were his teeth and his hair was, okay, stringier because he didn’t bother to brush it this morning, but the same color and length. 

He was going to tell her. It was the only thing he could do, because she either already knew or would figure it out sooner rather than later. If he could explain himself, things would go much better than if she just found out and flat-out hated him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that secret identities always end badly, he’d read more than enough comics to know that Spiderman always fucked up Peter Parker’s life and that Bruce Wayne always ended up alone because he valued his secret more than his girlfriends.

Gerard knew that Lyn-Z was way more important to him than the skirts and the band, as much as he loved both. She was the reason he’d started this and even if he felt a little hollow at the idea of not being Gee anymore, he had to tell her.

She was still going to hate him. He kind of felt like his heart was being smashed under one of his own boots. He turned off his phone and took a deep breath before heading back.

He didn’t look in Lyn-Z’s direction for the rest of detention.

*

When he got home he changed into clothes for band practice. He felt the prickly stubble on his legs woefully and remembered how excited he’d been at first to keep up all the girl-rituals he could, and now he was lazy. He tugged on the spiderweb tights, though, and his nicest boots, because if this was going to be his last outing as a girl he was going to at least make it a good one.

He would have to find Alicia and apologize for bailing on the band after he told Lyn-Z. He wasn’t sure what he’d say to Kitty, if anything.

Things had gotten way stickier than he’d thought. For some reason the idea of joining the band had been an abstract part of his plan, and now the thought of not getting to do the performance that had his stomach tied up in knots was bothering him more than he would have thought.

The wind had been picking up outside so Gerard decided to borrow Mikey’s peacoat again, so he darted up the stairs, rolling his eyes as his mother wolf-whistled at him and pushed open Mikey’s door.

“Hey Mikey – _oh my everloving god_ ,” Gerard said, clamping his hand over his eyes. His traitorous fingers were splayed enough that he could still see glimpses of the room.

“Hey, ever think about knocking?” Pete Wentz said, eyes squeezed shut, not making any move to pull up his pants. Gerard figured that his brother was probably glaring at him, but he was _not_ looking in the vicinity of Pete’s crotch to find out.

“What’d you want?” Mikey said bitchily.

Gerard turned around and stepped into the hall. “Your coat,” he said, debating whether or not it was safe to remove his hand. 

“It’s on my chair,” Mikey called back. “Get it if you want it.”

“What?” he heard Pete say. “Mikey, this is a private activity!”

“I don’t need it that badly,” Gerard replied. He would way rather freeze his balls off than go back in a room where his baby brother was trying to give Pete Wentz a blowjob.

As he clomped back down the stairs, though, he almost wished he had, thinking of the walk to Alicia’s. He tugged on his usual denim jacket and walked out the front door, pushing his hair behind his ear cursing whatever trick of fate meant that one strand of hair would always get stuck on his lipgloss.

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

Gerard whirled around to find Patrick Stump sitting on the front porch railing like it was his fucking house. “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?” Gerard shot back.

“Waiting on my best friend,” Patrick said, looking at Gerard with a glare. “I knew Mikey was just messing with him.”

“What?” Gerard said. Mikey owed him big, he decided, because this shit didn’t happen before Mikey started dragging Pete Wentz home. Gerard had no clue what Patrick’s deal was…

He realized that he was standing there in a skirt.

Fuck.

“It’s not--” he began, but Patrick cut him off. “I told Pete that Mikey was the worst possible choice he could make. Everyone knows he’s a slut.”

“What?” Gerard squeaked, glaring. “Mikey is _not_ \--” 

“It’s not like this is the first time,” Patrick said with a glare. He started towards the door. “I’m gonna take Pete home.”

Gerard reached back and slammed the door, thankful that he’d flicked the lock out of habit before stepping onto the porch. “Let them work out their own shit, okay? You’re reading this all wrong.”

“Fuck you,” Patrick glared before going to fiddle with the door. He rang the doorbell, and Gerard decided he needed to just leave.

No sense getting outted right before he went and told Lyn-Z that he was a liar. 

He stomped down the sidewalk.

* 

When he got to Alicia’s garage, he stopped outside, leaning against the outside wall and taking in a deep breath. He wasn’t sure he could face them. Wasn’t sure he could walk in there in his skirt and tights and makeup like everything was normal, not when Lyn-Z suspected.

He wasn’t sure what Alicia and Kitty’s reactions were going to be. Lyn-Z would definitely tell Kitty, at the very least, and Alicia would find out, too. Gerard was beginning to realize what a stupid naïve plan this had been in the first place.

He chewed on his lip a moment, leaning his head back and hearing the steady beat of Kitty warming up inside. 

“Why are you slinking around out here?” 

Gerard whirled around. Alicia was standing there. She raised an eyebrow and tapped her toe.

“Just thinking,” Gerard said. 

“You’re not thinking of backing out of the show, are you?” Alicia demanded.

“No,” Gerard lied.

“Good, because the kid from the school paper is here. Apparently Sarah told him how awesome we are and he wants to do an article on us. It’ll probably get some actual kids to the show,” Alicia said.

Gerard felt the blood drain from his face.

“I told him our band name was the Hell Dollys,” Alicia continued, and then prodded him in the arm. “Don’t look so scaredy-cat! We’re getting better.”

“It’s just kind of soon for press…” Gerard said.

“Go big or go home, am I right?” Alicia said. “Come on.”

Gerard followed her into the garage. Kitty as it turned out wasn’t just warming up, she was drumming and twirling her sticks as a blond kid snapped pictures. Lyn-Z had her bass in hand and was pacing around nervously. She didn’t look up when they came in. 

“We’re all here!” Alicia said. She turned back to Gerard. “Steven wants to listen to us practice a bit so he can write a review.”

“You know we aren’t great yet, right?” Gerard asked Steven.

“Doesn’t matter,” Steven said. “This is way more interesting than interviewing Ryland while he tries to interview me. Again.”

Gerard reluctantly got into place. He started to face the band before he realized they had an audience – their first audience – and shuffled the formation around until he could see Steven. 

They started off with a shaky rendition of “Me and Little Andy,” and Gerard forgot most of the second verse and had to improvise something – he was pretty sure he added something about kung-fu which decidedly was _not_ in the original – and spend half the time glancing over at Lyn-Z to see if she was glancing at _him_ and the other half painfully aware of Steven’s listening-intently face.

The second song they did, though, was the thrashed-up version of “Why’d You Come In Here Looking Like That” they’d been working on for the past couple of practices, and Gerard didn’t have time to worry about Steven and Lyn-Z. Instead he just sassed his way through the song, loosening up enough to move around a little like it was an actual performance instead of a practice, and when he caught sight of Alicia after he pulled a move he hadn’t tried outside of his bedroom she beamed at him and looked like she would have given him the thumbs-up if she hadn’t been strumming away. 

He felt more confident and directed the last chorus at Lyn-Z, who tossed her hair and cocked her hip at him. It wasn’t perfect – the timing was still off and Gerard’s contributions on guitar were pathetic at best, but Steven was grinning when the song ended and said enthusiastically, “Dudes, you guys fucking rock.”

“Damn straight we do,” Alicia said, and Lyn-Z did victory arms in agreement. Gerard just beamed.

They played the other three songs they had mostly down, and at the end of it Steven was raving about how awesome they were and how great a review they were getting and Tom, you got action shots, right, and seriously, Gee, want to hang out sometime?

Gerard awkwardly turned down Steven’s invitation. Kitty was snickering to herself by the time Gerard got Steven to leave the garage, and Lyn-Z raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“I’ll try not to be wooed by the press,” Gerard replied.

“The press looked like it was ready to woo you,” Kitty teased, winking.

“I haven’t seen Steven that smitten since he discovered Love and Rockets,” Alicia said.

Gerard rolled his eyes and Lyn-Z laughed. The rest of practice flew by, and when Gerard left, smiling, he’d mostly forgotten about the fact that it was going to be his last practice with the band.

“Let’s go to the park,” Lyn-Z suggested, and Gerard nodded. Neither said anything, and Gerard was beginning to think from the sheer normalcy of the past hour that he’d maybe overreacted. Maybe Lyn-Z didn’t know, maybe she wouldn’t _care_.

Halfway to the park, Lyn-Z reached over and took his hand. Hers was clammy in his. Gerard didn’t know why she would be nervous, not when he was the one about to fuck everything up.

At the park Lyn-Z automatically went to the slide tower, climbing up it as Gerard carefully followed, sitting down heavily beside her and letting his boots swing out over the edge as he rested an arm on the bar stretching in front of them and just looked at her.

“Are you still nervous about the gig?” Lyn-Z asked. “You seemed pretty confident out there today.”

“A little,” he said vaguely. “Lyn-Z--”

She leaned forward and kissed him softly. She pressed a hand against his cheek and when she pulled back said, “You know, sometimes I make shit up.”

“I—what?” Gerard said.

“It’s a side effect of hanging around Jimmy and Steve, I think,” she said. “They like to fuck with people… with people’s perceptions sometimes.”

“People’s perceptions,” Gerard repeated dumbly.

“And I totally get it because I do, too, you know?” Lyn-Z said. “It’s easier if people don’t really know you. Then they can’t judge who you really are. They can just judge who they think you are, and it doesn’t hurt as much then.”

“It still hurts,” Gerard said.

Lyn-Z let out a strangled laugh. “Oh god. I just… I don’t want this to end up like this, you know?”

“I don’t want this to end,” Gerard said, completely lost. 

“It’s just… Oh, fuck it,” Lyn-Z said, and leaned forward and kissed him again. 

This time it was far from gentle, and Gerard ignored the tiny voice in the back of his mind telling him what a douchebag he was being to half-turn, put his hand on her side and kiss her back how he’d been dreaming of.

Her tongue flicked against his, and he opened up enough to allow her in, to taste her and bite gently on her lower lip as she let out a tiny moan. They just kissed for a few minutes, Gerard feeling like he never wanted this to end. He kept slowly rubbing circles on the safe part of her torso, feeling the curve of her waist and not daring to drift too far. 

Then she shifted and his hand slid over the curve of her breast, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull his hand back like he should. Instead, he pressed his palm against her, stroked his thumb out and listened to the sound she made.

She pushed him back and for a second he thought he’d gone too far, that he’d somehow misread her. And then she shifted awkwardly, slid a leg over his lap and then was straddling him, her back against the bar that kept kids from falling off the tower and her knees on either side of his hips. 

She was wearing what she’d decided was her stage clothes – one night she and Gerard had had a conversation debating the homage to Angus Young versus the idea of pandering to the schoolgirl fantasy that had ended in a ‘fuck ‘em’ - and her plaid skirt, unraveling where she had chopped it off, barely covered the tops of her thighs where she was settled on him.

Thanks to his own skirt which was only just doing its job of covering him, most of what was between them was his pantyhose and her torn fishnets, and Gerard could barely think for the way that her legs slid against his as she settled on his lap, leaning forward and kissing him again, his hand settling on her hip before sliding up, feeling hot smooth skin underneath her vest briefly before sticking to running his hand over her tight vest and back up to her breast, squeezing and sighing into her mouth.

“Oh god,” she mumbled into his mouth, pushing against his hand and shifting her hips. She had one arm wrapped loosely around Gerard’s neck, and she dragged her other hand through Gerard’s hair, tracing kisses across his jaw and sighing into his ear. “I’ve been wanting this.”

“Me too,” Gerard said truthfully, biting his lip as he felt her thighs flex against his, squeezing as she kissed him again, pushing against him as he got braver, feeling her up more confidently.

Lyn-Z pressed against him, grinding her hips down and never breaking the kiss. Gerard couldn’t _think_ , couldn’t remember why he’d been trying to avoid this as she let out a sigh, a frustrated grunt and then pushed herself closer to him, close enough that…

Close enough that Gerard could feel her heat against his hard-on, trapped as it was under his skirt and tights. Gerard didn’t even have time to panic, didn’t even have time to _think_ before she was grinding herself against him, rubbing herself against the bulge under his skirt and groaning into his mouth, pushing him backwards until he was flat on his back, trying his best to not buck up against her and failing miserably.

“Lyn-Z,” he managed to pant out, freaking out from both panic and the overwhelming sensation of what was happening, and she pressed her mouth against his again, keeping the kiss going between breathless pants as she shifted against him.

Gerard wasn’t going to keep his dignity long; it was all too much, and even trapped as it was his dick was letting him know that he was close, and Lyn-Z squirming again to get a better angle to rub herself against him was almost more than he could handle.

He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t. He was pretty sure this crossed the line that he’d known from the beginning he couldn’t cross.

And then Lyn-Z wormed an arm between their bodies, and against his dick he could feel her hand working against her clit, and she arched her back and let out the hottest fucking noise he had ever heard another human being make as her entire body stiffened. 

“Fuck,” Gerard said as he came in his tights, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

When he opened his eyes Lyn-Z was still on top of him, pressed against him from hip to chest, staring him in the eye. “Gerard…”

Gerard didn’t know what to do. He froze, staring at her in shock.

She didn’t say anything, just stared back and opened her mouth like she wanted to say something before closing it again.

He sat up, accidentally hitting his forehead against her chin and yelping a bit as he squirmed out from under her, saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over helplessly as he tried to untangle himself. 

Lyn-Z was staring at him with wide eyes and she said, “I… Gerard, I… Please, just listen to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerard said again. “Please don’t hate me.”

He somehow managed to get down the slide without hurting himself, and as he hurried towards his house, the stickiness in his tights reminded him with every step of the way how badly he’d screwed up, how he’d ignored Lyn-Z calling after him.


	7. Chapter 7

When he got home he shucked his tights – he was pretty sure they were ruined – and equally gross underwear and pulled on his pajamas, scrubbing his makeup off his face and kicking his basket of Gee clothes in frustration.

Lyn-Z had said his name. Not Gee, she had said _Gerard_.

Fuck, fuck and more fuck.

He had so completely screwed everything up. Lyn-Z knew who he was. She fucking _knew_.

He didn’t really know what to think about the fact that they had sort of had sex in the jungle gym at the park. Or the fact that Lyn-Z had…

Had she known before? Then why the hell would she have kept it up?

He was halfway up the stairs to Mikey’s room before he remembered what he’d walked in on earlier, but decided to keep going. Pete was surely gone by now. He knocked, though, and Mikey called back, “What?” testily.

“It’s me,” Gerard called back, leaning his head against the door jam. “Sorry about earlier.”

There was a pause, and Gerard thought he might be getting the dreaded Mikey Way Silent Treatment, which had been known to last weeks and drive Gerard batty, but then the door cracked open and Gerard stumbled into Mikey’s room.

Mikey took one look at Gerard and said dryly, “It looks like your night was as killer as mine.”

Gerard made a face at his brother and flopped on his bed, hiding his face under a plush bat Mikey’d had since he was a baby. “Oh god.”

“Well, at least no one thinks you’re fucking your brother,” Mikey said, flopping down beside him. 

Gerard peeked out from under one of the bat’s wings. “What?”

“It turns out Pete’s best friend whose every word he takes as gospel thinks I’m sleeping with that chick from Alicia’s band,” Mikey said. “And he came barging in here to inform Pete.”

“Oh, fuck,” Gerard said. “Did you set him straight?”

“I didn’t get a chance,” Mikey said. “Patrick was yelling and Pete was yelling and then Pete stormed out. He hasn’t answered my calls.”

“Did you talk to Alicia?” Gerard asked.

“She hasn’t answered yet,” Mikey said. “I think she’s talking to Pete.”

“I hope she talks some sense into him,” Gerard said, trying to not think of Pete convincing Alicia of anything. “Fuck.”

“At least now whatever catastrophe you’re dealing with is in perspective,” Mikey told him.

Gerard sighed. “Lyn-Z knows.”

“Knows-knows?” Mikey said.

“Well, she called me Gerard,” Gerard replied. “I’m pretty sure that means the jig is up.”

“You didn’t tell her?”

“I told you she was acting weird yesterday,” Gerard said. “And then today in detention she kept texting me, and so I decided to confess, you know? But I didn’t get around to it and things happened and then she called me Gerard and I apologized and ran.”

Mikey lifted one of the bat’s wings and stared at Gerard. “What do you mean, ‘things happened’?”

Trust his brother to home in on the one thing Gerard didn’t want to elaborate on.

“You know. Things,” Gerard replied. “Did you miss the part where she called me Gerard?”

“Did she call you Gerard during these things?”

“Sort of in the aftermath,” Gerard replied, peeking out from under the stuffed bat. 

Mikey’s eyebrow was practically to his hairline. “Are you saying you got _lucky_? With _Lyn-Z_?”

“Sort of,” Gerard said. 

“And she apparently knew it was you she was getting busy with?”

“There was no getting busy,” Gerard said. “But I think so. I’m freaking out.”

“You’re freaking out because the hot girl of your dreams is okay with humping you as a boy?” Mikey said dubiously. 

“I don’t know!” Gerard said. “It doesn’t fucking make sense, okay, I was trying to tell her and she started talking about perceptions and then she was kissing me and I was kissing her and then she was on top of me and she definitely knows I’m not a girl. She wasn’t surprised, though,” he said, realizing it for the first time. “And then she called me Gerard and I left.”

“Why the hell would you leave?” Mikey asked. 

“Because Lyn-Z knows who I am!” Gerard repeated, voice reaching higher and higher registers. “She knows I’ve been lying!”

“And yet she was still down with happy endings,” Mikey said. 

“I didn’t say anything about happy endings,” Gerard said petulantly. “But yeah, she was. I think. She could have just been so freaked out she didn’t look freaked out.”

“Gee,” Mikey said reprovingly.

“Hey, you don’t get to lecture me, Mister Converting Straight Boys With Blowjobs,” Gerard replied.

“Pete’s definitely not as straight as he thinks he is,” Mikey said. “He’d finally… I don’t know, come to terms with things. He told me all this stuff, and we’d finally stopped beating around the bush.” Gerard snorted, and Mikey flicked him in the arm. “And besides, unlike some people, there was no happy ending. Remember about Patrick bursting in accusing me of sleeping with my brother?”

“Speaking of which, I’m totally staying here tonight,” Gerard said. “But all you have to do is _tell_ Pete.”

The thought of Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump knowing about his experiment with being a girl on top of Lyn-Z knowing, and how Alicia would find out, and how he’d definitely get kicked out of the band and everyone would give him those looks because they knew how big an asshole he really was put a pit in Gerard’s stomach, but he wasn’t going to let that ruin Mikey’s happiness.

His reputation really couldn’t be hurt by something like a tendency to dress in drag, anyhow. Probably no one at school would even bat an eye, not after the Bert thing had gone down sophomore year. 

“No,” Mikey said. “I can’t fucking believe Pete thinks I’d cheat on him and Alicia with some random chick.”

“Being a contrary bitch isn’t going to make you happy,” Gerard said.

“Sure it will,” Mikey said, sticking out his tongue. “I just hope Alicia doesn’t believe this shit, too.”

Gerard squirmed under the covers, and curled up, still clutching Mikey’s stuffed bat protectively. He didn’t think that he would ever be able to sleep with all the nervous thoughts churning in his head, but after a few minutes of listening to Mikey’s breathing slow down and even out Gerard’s eyes grew heavy, and he fell asleep.

*

Gerard woke up with his nose in Mikey’s armpit, and he whacked him sleepily with the stuffed bat for being a smelly motherfucker before crawling out of bed and blearily stumbling down to the kitchen. Coffee was already brewing, and Gerard mumbled a steady stream of appreciation for his mother and whoever had invented coffee as he made his way through his first cup of the morning.

He seriously considered just skipping school, because the thought of being in the same building as Lyn-Z, much less the same room, made him want to throw himself in front of a bus. He went downstairs and picked up his phone.

No missed calls. No new messages.

He stared at the screen in dismay. He’d left the phone down here purposefully so that he wouldn’t be bothered by the calls he knew he was going to get, only… 

Lyn-Z hadn’t called him. He stomped upstairs, sloshed fresh coffee into his mug and took a gulp that burned his throat. 

Mikey was up and raised an eyebrow at him, taking a measured sip of his own mug.

Gerard waved his phone around. “Nothing! She didn’t call me once!”

“You didn’t call her,” Mikey pointed out. “You sat around and fretted.”

“But she’s not a fretter!” Gerard said. “What if she’s like, gone to lesbian confession and is doing a bunch of Hail Madonnas for making out with a dude? She probably hates my guts and that’s what she meant last night.”

“Maybe she’s not a lesbian?” Mikey suggested.

“Kitty and Amanda, Mikey,” Gerard said. “Notice any themes?”

Mikey gave him the look he reserved for when Gerard was doing something especially stupid. “What happened to your ‘once she knows me she’ll get over the plumbing’ philosophy?”

“Everything about this plan was stupid,” Gerard said. “Stupid stupid stupid.” He thumped his head against the table for good measure.

“Hey,” Frank said from the doorway. He looked back over his shoulder nervously. “Dude, your mom just goosed me when she let me in.”

Mikey choked on his mouthful of coffee. 

“Please tell me you didn’t do anything back,” Gerard said.

“Hell no! Your mom scares me,” Frank said. “More now than ever.” He looked around. “Am I the only one going to school?”

Mikey and Gerard both shrugged. Frank plopped down at the table and scooted Mikey’s bowl of cereal closer. “Is anyone going to share with the class?”

“I don’t want to see Lyn-Z,” Gerard admitted.

“And I don’t want to see Pete and Alicia,” Mikey contributed.

“So… you’re going to hang out in your pajamas all day,” Frank said.

“That was my plan,” Gerard said. Mikey nodded.

“And you didn’t invite me?” Frank complained.

Mikey shrugged. “You haven’t been humiliated lately.”

“Last week I got _shoved in a locker_ because of you!” Frank protested. “That is fucking humiliating.”

Gerard snickered. Frank threw a soggy marshmallow at him.

They stayed in the kitchen until Gerard heard his mom leave for work, then they all got comfortable on the couch and played video games until Frank finally started to pry the story out of them.

When he heard Mikey’s problem he didn’t stop laughing for an entire quest. Mikey glared. Gerard concentrated on his game.

“No, seriously, Patrick convinced Pete you’re sleeping with Gee,” Frank snorted. “Christ. And you’re too stubborn and bitchy to just tell him about the misunderstanding.”

“It’s the point,” Mikey said, jabbing at his controller. “And don’t get all indignant at me until you hear Gee’s problem.”

Frank sputtered and told Gerard he was an idiot once Gerard reluctantly admitted his problem, and he waited until Frank had run out of “Seriously, fucking _idiots_ ,” before pointing out that it was a lot easier to judge when it wasn’t your heart on the line.

“It’s a lot easier to judge when I’m not a _fucktard,_ ” Frank said. “Gerard, she knows you’re you and she still humped you! How in the hell is that bad?”

Gerard did not dignify that with an answer.

*

He couldn’t avoid school forever, so the next day he reluctantly dragged himself in. 

Lyn-Z kept looking his way during the classes they shared in the morning, but he kept his eyes glued to his notebook. It took all his willpower. He could practically feel her gaze on him, prickling up the hair on the back of his neck, but he wasn’t going to confront this issue before he had to.

Gerard was pretty sure he hadn’t always been chickenshit, but he was also pretty sure that he’d never fucked things up so badly with someone he was in love with before. Sure, things with Bert had ended very, very badly, but Gerard had also been way more fucked up then.

He didn’t have that excuse now. He was just a dumbass.

A folded football of paper landed on his notebook. There was nothing written on the outside, and he glanced over at Lyn-Z. She motioned for him to read it.

He clumsily unfolded the paper. All it said was, _You have to come to practice tonight._

He blinked. Fuck. He’d completely blown off practice the night before. He carefully wrote, _Was Alicia pissed?_

Gerard pretended to be interested by the worksheet being passed out while he waited on Lyn-Z’s reply. When the little football-note skidded across his notebook, he eagerly opened it. _Hmm. Boyfriend 2 thinks Boyfriend 1 is cheating with Lead Singer. It wasn’t pretty._

Fucksticks.

He took a deep breath. _Are you pissed?_

He carefully folded the note back up, and twisted it around in his hands a few times. He just had to hand it back to her. Turn, toss it a few rows over, and he’d find out. 

He kept twisting the note in his hand until the bell rang, and then shoved it in his pocket. 

*

Lunch turned out to be worse than Gerard feared. There was a commotion at the soccer player’s table, and sitting in the rack just inside the cafeteria entrance are fresh copies of the school’s newspaper.

Gerard remembered the photography nerd clicking away during practice and grabbed a copy, certain that he was going to be horrified as soon as he saw what had been written.

After grabbing food he sat down at his table, where Mikey was slumped in his seat eyeing the soccer table warily and Frank was looking delighted.

“It’s the diva!” he exclaimed cheerfully as Gerard sat down. Gerard hadn’t even opened the paper but he was pretty sure he wanted to go burn the entire stack before anyone else could get to it. 

Ray and Bob were grinning, too. 

“I’m putting this shit up in my locker,” Bob declared.

“You’re very pretty,” Ray said. “Aphrodite would be jealous.”

Gerard looked to his brother. “Is it bad?”

“Alicia’s eating with Pete,” Mikey said. 

The note Gerard hadn’t passed felt like a lead weight in his pocket. He reluctantly opened the newspaper and found Steven’s article near the back.

The picture was as horrible as Gerard had feared. It was black and white, which just made his made-up face look all the more made up, his lips pursed like he was about to blow a kiss, hip thrust out to the side. He tried to focus on everyone else: Kitty’s hands were blurs and a huge grin was on her face, Alicia was smirking, legs planted wide, and Lyn-Z’s was smiling at him, hair tossled and new tattoo vivid on her thigh. Her expression was the softest of any of them, and Gerard’s stomach tied up in knots just looking at her.

He looked over at her table, and she was batting at Jimmy’s hair with a rolled-up copy of the paper. No one at her table was paying him any attention, so he figured she hadn’t shared with them. Probably. They were kind of a strange bunch.

“Did you get to _queen-bitch rock and roller_ yet?” Frank asked. “That’s my favorite part.”

Gerard hadn’t bothered to read what Steven had written. He quickly read the article. 

He couldn’t quite stop blinking when he was done. “Um.”

“Dude, you’d best hope that Smith kid doesn’t find out you go to this school. He’d probably compose odes to you in every edition.”

The review had been very favorable. Very. Gerard was kind of uncomfortable with how favorable it had been. “Did he really say that I _infuse Dolly’s lyrics with Courtney Love levels of badassery with every sassy snarl and sexy smirk_? Can he even write that in the school paper?”

“Now I can’t wait to see this performance you have coming up,” Bob said. “Apparently you’re more awesome than sliced bread.”

“Do you still have a performance coming up?” Mikey asked skeptically.

“I have no fucking idea,” Gerard said. “Lyn-Z said I have to go to practice tonight.”

There was a pause. 

“You talked to Lyn-Z?” Frank demanded.

“She, uh, passed me a note,” Gerard said. “It didn’t address the issue.”

“But she wants you to go to practice,” Ray said.

“That might just be because of how Alicia thinks I’m a homewrecker,” Gerard said.

“I’m a little lost on that one,” Bob said.

Frank rolled his eyes. “It can be summarized as, ‘Ways are fickle bitches.’”

“I told Mikey to just _tell_ them,” Gerard said. He waved the paper in his brother’s face. “It’s not like my picture isn’t in the fucking paper.”

“Though it really doesn’t look like you,” Bob said. “I never would have guessed you were hiding a set of legs like that under those khakis.”

“I’m sick of Pete’s shit,” Mikey said.

“By which you mean, you’re a fickle bitch,” Frank said. “It’s not like the dude’s done anything unusual for him.”

Gerard looked over at the soccer player’s table. Pete was sitting at the very end of it, separated from the team by a few empty seats and Alicia. She was reading the article with a sour expression. 

Gerard was going to get reamed when he went to practice.

He had no idea why Pete was back with the soccer team, though. The few days that had passed since Pete had followed Mikey home didn’t really seem like enough time for Pete to have won back his teammate’s hearts. 

And, now that he was looking…. “Where’s Patrick?”

“Huh?”

“Patrick,” Gerard repeated. “If Pete bought his story about you cheating on him and Alicia, why isn’t he sitting with him?”

Mikey looked at the table again. “I can’t go over there. You know the soccer team wants to kick my ass.”

Gerard didn’t want his brother getting his ass kicked. “I’ll try to find out at practice.”

*

Gerard paced outside the art room, hand in his pocket wrapped around the note he hadn’t passed to Lyn-Z. He had to go in, and Lyn-Z would be _right there_ , and Gerard would have no excuse to not talk to her. He even _wanted_ to talk to her, because he’d missed talking to her over the past two days. 

He hadn’t realized how fully she had become part of his life in such a short time. He wanted to be her friend. He wanted to have her hang out with his friends and watch movies with her and get random calls bitching about the temperature of her soup. 

He chewed on his lip and leaned against the wall, staring at the door to the art room. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone leaned heavily against the wall beside him. He looked up, and Steve was staring at him, mouth twisted speculatively.

Gerard suddenly got the pressing need to go to class, but Steve cleared his throat when Gerard started to move. “I think we have some things to talk about.”

“I don’t,” Gerard said shortly. 

Steve rolled his eyes and said, “You don’t get to fuck with my best friend and expect me not to say anything, numbnuts.”

Gerard scowled. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry that Lyn-Z had told Steve, especially since all of his friends knew, but he was. “No one‘s stopping you.”

“What the fuck were you _thinking_ , monkey brains?” Steve replied, poking Gerard in the chest. 

Gerard didn’t say anything. He stared resolutely at Steve’s shirt. There was a dripping cock drawn onto his collar, faded from the wash. Gerard wondered how Steven and Lyn-Z both managed to break all the uniform rules without reprimand.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment?” Steve asked disbelievingly.

“No,” Gerard said. He decided to go with honesty. “I don’t know what to say.”

Steve made a disgusted sound and shook his head, going into the art room. Gerard didn’t really want to follow him, but he couldn’t miss class again, not when he was hoping for a letter of recommendation from Mr. Armstrong. He felt like he was slinking in after Steve with his tail between his legs.

It turned out to be a rare day when they got a lecture, so Gerard just scrawled down notes and kept glancing over at Lyn-Z. Whether he was hoping she’d be looking at him or not, he had no idea. 

He reached in his pocket and took out the note, unfolding it and adding, _I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I’m sorry._ before folding it back up.

When the bell rang, Gerard reached over and stuck the note in Lyn-Z’s notebook just before she closed it, catching her eye and nervously giving her a half-smile before ducking his head down and quickly leaving the room before Steve could say anything else to him.

*

 

Gerard realized that afternoon that he had a dilemma.

He didn’t know what to wear to band practice.

Wearing a skirt seemed… weird, in a way it never had before. Like he was a fake now that Lyn-Z knew. Like she knew he was a fake, and that wearing a skirt was like saying to her, “You don’t mean anything to me.”

He didn’t want to say that.

He couldn’t go as himself, either, in his baggy t-shirts and pants that all seemed to get ink and paint stains in the worst possible places. Alicia and Kitty didn’t know yet, and he’d gotten the impression from Lyn-Z’s note that she didn’t necessarily want him to barge into practice as Gerard Way all, “Hey, I lied, guess what, your riot grrl band ain’t so girly after all.”

He settled on the girl jeans and one of the t-shirts he’d worn to practice last week, covering it self-consciously with Mikey’s peacoat because it felt strange and too thin without the sports bra he’d gotten used to wearing underneath it.

He felt kind of naked without it, actually, like he was about to charge into battle without his armor. Which was ridiculous because…

Fuck, Alicia thought he was a hussy and Kitty _knew_ he’d taken her girlfriend. 

Gerard blinked a few times. Maybe he _was_ a hussy. He couldn’t exactly pretend to be innocent when he’d known full well what he was getting into when he started.

He went to the bathroom and carefully added eyeliner and brushed his hair, before deciding, _fuck it,_ and added a glossy coat of lip gloss, blowing the mirror a kiss.

He couldn’t go in all timid. It wasn’t like his reputation could get any worse; they thought he was a hussy, having – hell, _being_ \- a dick wouldn’t really fuck things up worse. He still had the chance to get to play with the band, and he was going to take that.

*

Gerard was sure to arrive on time, but when he got there Alicia and Lyn-Z were standing on opposite sides of the garage very deliberately fiddling with their instruments.

If he was smart he would turn and walk away before they noticed him. He froze instead, and Alicia glanced up. Her scowl was terrifying. Gerard took a half-step back.

“About fucking time you showed up,” Alicia snapped. 

Lyn-Z looked like she wanted to say something. She didn’t.

“Sorry I missed practice,” Gerard said. He wanted to shuffle his feet but was too scared to show weakness. Somehow he’d put Alicia in the safe ‘Mikey’s girlfriend’ category and had forgotten what she’d been like before – a hard-eyed girl who wouldn’t take shit from anyone. 

“Who… Oh, I mean what were you doing?” Alicia demanded. 

Gerard couldn’t explain he’d spent the evening playing video games with Mikey and Frank. 

“What the hell, Alicia?” he shot back.

“Don’t _what the hell_ me,” Alicia said, pointing at him. 

Gerard put his own hand on his hip and replied, “If you’ve got a problem, say it.”

“My problem is that I’ve been hearing from all over that you’re messing around with my boyfriend!” Alicia snapped.

“I really, _really_ haven’t been,” Gerard said.

“Yeah, then why did Patrick, who has _no reason to lie_ , say he’d seen you leaving Mikey’s twice? Even that Butcher kid who works at the putt-putt course mentioned something to me, Jesus.” Alicia looked like she wanted to butcher _him_. 

Gerard was at a loss for words, and ran his hand through his hair, preparing to explain that Mikey was his _brother_ , there was nothing untoward going on there.

Lyn-Z took a step closer. “Alicia, I don’t think--”

Alicia glared at her. “You don’t say anything, Lyn-Z, because I know all about what kind of girl you are.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Lyn-Z demanded.

“Oh, I think you _know_ ,” Alicia said, mouth twisted angrily. “It shouldn’t surprise you that you get fucked over when you’re just _using_ someone.”

What the fuck? Gerard didn’t even know what to say. Alicia didn’t mean Lyn-Z was using _him_ , surely….

Lyn-Z had started dating him really quickly after dumping Kitty. Really quickly. Gerard stared at the two girls and realized for the first time he wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

Lyn-Z knew what to say. “Have you asked Mikey about this?”

“That is none of your godddamn business,” Alicia replied.

“I think you shouldn’t be hurling accusations at my girlfriend when you’re too chickenshit to even ask your boyfriend about it,” Lyn-Z said coldly.

 _Her girlfriend._ Lyn-Z had just called him her girlfriend. 

Alicia didn’t let him marvel over the novelty, though, as she turned on him. “I’m asking her now. What the fuck, Gee?”

“There’s no fuck to what!” Gerard said, waving his hands, trying to convey exactly how _wrong_ Alicia had things. “Seriously, Alicia, I do not have the slightest interest in Mikey.”

Alicia did not look like she believed him.

“Like… how could I, when I’ve already got someone so amazing?” Gerard said, because that was as simple as he could make things without dragging secrets into the open that didn’t need to be out yet.

Lyn-Z looked strangely sad at this proclamation, though, and Gerard remembered again what Alicia had said. 

Alicia pursed her lips and shook her head. 

“What’s going on?” Kitty asked tentatively from the open garage door. Her brow was furrowed and she was holding a copy of the school paper in her hand.

“Nothing,” Lyn-Z said shortly. “Come on, we really need to get our songs worked out before the gig.”

“ _If_ we make it to the gig,” Alicia mumbled, and Gerard was pretty sure none of them were meant to hear it.

“We should work on the bridge of ‘Me and Little Andy,’” Gerard suggested, and they kept the rest of practice very formal.

*

When Gerard got home he banged on his brother’s door. Mikey didn’t answer, so Gerard just yelled inside, “Mikey, for the love of Christ, tell your girlfriend we’re not boning,” then stomped downstairs to sulk into some issues of Hellboy.

The next day at school he perfected the art of not talking to anyone, taking a certain pride in managing to avoid everyone he knew with ninja-like stealth. Band practice was a strange affair. Everyone was coldly polite, nervousness over the next night’s gig being the only thing keeping them from all leaving over the tension left over from the fight the day before. 

They were sounding pretty good, actually, despite the fact that Gerard was certain Alicia wanted to kick his ass. Mikey was going down when Gerard next saw him, because seriously, he couldn’t just tell Alicia he wasn’t two-timing her? He had to go and make Gerard’s life even more stupidly difficult than it already was?

After practice they discussed what they would wear for the gig – Gerard just nodded when Lyn-Z told him to wear her favorite of his swishy skirts – and worked out the details of getting their gear there.

Gerard wanted to fix things. He hesitated and then said, “You know I’m in no way interested in your boyfriend, right?”

“Get out,” Alicia said, motioning towards the open garage door.

“I want you to know--”

“Leave,” Alicia said. She looked like she was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something, which was as far from typical Alicia behavior as possible.

Gerard didn’t push it, just turned and left.

*

He didn’t just bang on Mikey’s door when he got home, he actually barged in, and found Mikey morosely playing his Gameboy, headphones blaring loud enough for Gerard to hear the teeny buzz of Morrissey’s voice.

Gerard flopped down on the foot of the bed, glaring. Mikey’s shoulders hunched, but he didn’t react otherwise.

Gerard poked him in the foot. “Mikey.”

No response, so Gerard grabbed his foot and started tickling, chanting, “Mikey! Come on, Mikey! Mikey!” 

Mikey bowed up and let out a startled squeal and kicked at Gerard, and Gerard refused to let go until Mikey squeaked out, “I tried!” while using his free foot to try to dislodge Gerard.

“How hard did you try?” Gerard demanded, letting go of Mikey’s foot and wiping his hand off on the bedspread.

“I’m getting the double-cold-shoulder,” Mikey said. “It’s pretty heinous.”

“Alicia was pretty heinous during practice,” Gerard said. “And we’re performing _tomorrow_.”

“And you aren’t even in the running to be prom queen!” Mikey added. 

“Eat me,” Gerard replied, reaching towards Mikey’s foot again. Mikey laughed and kicked him away. 

Mikey’s phone buzzed, and he nearly whacked himself in the face with it in his haste to read the message. His face immediately fell. “Ray wants us to be sure to not skip the pep rally tomorrow.”

Gerard had never been to a pep rally in his life. “ _Why_?”

Mikey shrugged.

Gerard leaned back and said, “I’m afraid I don’t know Lyn-Z like I thought I did.”

Mikey gave him a skeptical look. “You know all of her favorite yogurt flavors.”

“Yesterday Alicia said something about… about Lyn-Z _using_ people, and I think she meant me, and I don’t know. Why did she even date me, if she maybe knew I was a guy?” Gerard had been trying to not think of this, but he couldn’t keep it from Mikey.

“Maybe she liked you,” Mikey said.

“But then she would have said something,” Gerard said.

“Did you?” Mikey didn’t look at him, just toyed with his Gameboy.

“That was below the belt,” Gerard grumbled.

“Right where all your problems are,” Mikey replied. Gerard decided that instigating a tickle-war was the only reply possible.

*

The first thing Ray said to Gerard when he walked into school the next morning was, “You’re coming to the pep rally, right?”

Dewees was beside him, looking like he might give Gerard a purple nurple if he said no. Gerard nodded.

“Make sure Mikey’s there,” Ray said.

“I’m not my brother’s keeper,” Gerard said, mostly because he’d always wanted to.

Dewees rolled his eyes. “I don’t care if you have to put a leash on him, get that cat to the pep rally.”

Gerard agreed, a little worried that Dewees would literally produce a leash if he namby-pambied around anymore.

The day itself passed in a blur – it seemed that because Gerard was dreading that night, the day itself decided to switch into super-speed and run delighted circles around him while he tried to convince it to slow its ass down. At lunch Gerard made sure Mikey had gotten the picture that Dewees really wanted him at the pep rally, and Mikey was as confused as Gerard was on why.

By the end of the day when the pep rally was set to occur, Gerard and Frank got to the gym and joined Mikey in the stands. Bob was with the band, talking intently to the other drummers as they stood behind their instruments. Kitty laughed at something Dan mimed, and Gerard wondered why Lyn-Z had picked him over her, because Kitty was much prettier and was more badass, because she didn’t hide from anything.

They sat in the far back corner of the bleachers, as far away from the pep as possible without leaving the gymnasium. The soccer team was all grouped together in their jerseys, and Gerard elbowed Mikey when he realized he was staring a little too intently at Pete.

Alicia was sitting with her group of friends near the band, and she wasn’t looking in either Mikey or Pete’s direction. 

“I’m glad Lyn-Z doesn’t come to these things,” Gerard said, watching the cheerleaders line up on the sideline.

“She’s right over there,” Frank said, pointing. Gerard looked up, startled to find Lyn-Z sitting on the other side of the gym with Steve and Jimmy and Chantal, not too far from Alicia. 

“Why is she here?” Gerard said. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but Dewees’ plans rarely ended well for his friends, in terms of high school embarrassment and mockery.

“I think they like to yell insults at the teams until they get kicked out,” Mikey replied. “Pete was bitching about it one time. Steve kept calling him ‘Donkeylips.’”

“Does it make _you_ want to fart when you think about him?” Frank asked. “Because I know there’s some short saluting going on there.”

“Rat bastard,” Mikey replied, flipping him off.

The band started playing, and Gerard tried to get comfortable on the hard wooden bleacher as he waited for whatever the hell Ray and Dewees had been planning.

It turned out pep rallies were as hellish as he’d always imagined, and he’d been _totally right_ to skip them all through high school. The soccer team got to prance in front of the school while being congratulated for some competition they were going to, and Gerard rolled his eyes as they all lined up and the principal, Mr. Aaronson, had each grade cheer for their own. 

The sophomores were hooting and hollering when three dudes in mascot costumes – a bear, a wombat and a dog -- ran out onto the court and ankled soccer players. Specifically, the soccer players that had been giving Mikey hell.

The stands erupted in laughter as the soccer players tried to hide their exposed bits while jerking their shorts back up, attempting to turn around before realizing that there were bleachers filled with students on either side. 

Gerard couldn’t make out what exactly they were yelling, but their angry red faces were pretty indicative that it wasn’t happy.

The mascots started to run off the court, but then the wombat doubled back and, before Pete seemed to realize what was happening, ankled him, too.

Pete jerked up his shorts again, but not before the whole school got a nice look at lil Peter, and Frank whispered, “You know that’s going to be all over the internet by dinner.”

“Oh lord,” Mikey said. “I am never going to hear the end of this.”

“From us?” Frank said. “Of course not!”

“I mean from Pete,” Mikey said, giving Frank a sideways glance. “I really don’t want to hear the director’s cut of your thoughts on my boyfriend’s dick.”

“So he’s your boyfriend, is he?” Gerard said, grinning.

“Shut up,” Mikey said, turning pink and staring down at the court, where Pete was doing his best to hide behind the larger players and the coach was yelling into a microphone for everyone to settle down.

They watched the rest of the soccer team’s section of the pep rally, snickering when rally girl leading a cheer for them stuttered on the word “penalty,” and waited for the rest of Dewees and Ray’s plot.

The band struck up a tune.

They waited a bit more, then Frank slowly said, “Do you think that was it?”

“That was anti-climactic,” Gerard said.

“Maybe they are going to whiz back out and blow our minds with a musical number about beets,” Mikey said.

“If only,” Frank sighed as the cheerleaders attempted a pyramid. “Let’s get out of here.”

They managed to weave their way down off the bleachers – Gerard only stepped on three people, and one kid’s fro – and left the gym, stealthily heading towards a back hallway when they heard a muffled thump from the supply closet.

“Yes!” hissed Frank, who loved busting people making out in cliché places. He pounced forward and swung open the door.

“Crap on a cracker,” Mikey yelped.

“Sweet bungee-jumping baby Jesus!” Dewees yelped in reply, hand still stuck inside Ray’s half-zipped bear suit.

Ray looked sheepish but also didn’t loosen his grip on Dewees’ fuzzy wombat arm. “Could you guys give us a second?”

“Hell no!” Frank crowed. “Someone take a picture!”

“That’s it, no more skirt jokes,” Gerard said. “From now on,” he waved a hand at Ray and Dewees, “they get all the grief.”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “That’s not going to happen. You know we like to spread the grief around.”

“Like a big grief-giving sandwich,” Frank said. “Seriously, you guys, I was going to tell you how anticlimactic that performance was after all your planning time, but now I’m pretty impressed.”

Ray was really, really red. Gerard was mildly concerned that the wrong head was about to go ka-blow. 

“We thought something more awesome would come to us,” Dewees shrugged. Ray let out a squeak and Dewees looked sheepish as he readjusted his arm. “But hey, public nudity!”

“Not as hilarious as it sounds!” Ray offered.

“Where’s the dog?” Frank asked, peering around the closet. “You got him in here, too?”

“Schechter took off,” Dewees said. “For some reason.”

“Shame,” Mikey said blandly.

Ray hid his head in Dewees’s shoulder.

“We’re going to let you two, erm, finish,” Gerard said. “But good job with the humiliation!”

He shut the door, then collapsed against it laughing. “I love our friends.”

“Pete is totally going to forgive them when he hears about this,” Mikey said. “He might even ask to borrow the wombat suit.”

“Lucky you,” Frank said.

Mikey blinked, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “That can be a Pete solo activity.”

Frank was practically bouncing in place. “This has been the _best week ever_ for getting dirt on people. I am going to be teasing you motherfuckers for _life_ off this shit.”

“One day, young Frankie, you too will provide dirt,” Mikey said.

“So you’d best watch your back, motherfucker,” Gerard added.

Frank just grinned at them.

*

When Gerard got home from school, he realized that he hadn’t decided on what to wear to the gig. Mikey wasn’t around for Gerard to complain about his wardrobe to, so he made Frank and Jamia come over so he could have people to pose for. 

Gerard wore the skirt Lyn-Z had requested. Frank and Jamia offered a running commentary on his makeup as he did it, Jamia pushing for more punk and Frank telling him how Dolly would approve of blue eyeshadow. He looked at himself in the mirror, with bold makeup and the short flouncy skirt and badass boots making his stockinged legs look longer than they were, and did a few practice dance moves, taking a bow when Frank wolf-whistled him. 

“I look okay?” he asked, feeling as self-conscious as the first time he’d dressed up. He didn’t know how many kids were going to be at the show, but it was going to be the most people he’d ever sang in front of as a girl.

“Very pretty,” Frank said.

“You look like you’re going to puke,” Jamia said. “Come on. It’s all about attitude!”

“That is easy for you to say,” Gerard grumbled, but he knew she was right. He was going to fall flat on his face unless he stomped out on that stage like he owned the motherfucking crowd.

It didn’t help that he still didn’t know what the fuck Lyn-Z was thinking. This was the most feminine skirt he owned, and she’d asked him to wear it. Did she only like him if she could pretend he was a girl? 

It was probably academic, anyway. 

“Okay, princess, let’s hit the road,” Frank said. “We’re going to drop you off at Alicia’s.”

Gerard licked his lips and nervously puckered them up at the mirror one last time, ignoring Frank’s snort of laughter at him before grabbing his bag and following them up the stairs.


	8. Chapter 8

Gerard expected that the ride to the community center where the gig was being held would be tense, but instead they all just nervously went over the set list and what they needed to remember and reminded each other about which notes they had trouble on and a million other minor details that had somehow been forgotten before.

There wasn’t any backstage at the center, just a slightly raised stage in the corner of a big empty room, so they hung outside by the car while the remaining ladies leaving the bingo game that had just ended exited the building. They took their guitar cases out of the back and then stood around awkwardly, uncertain about what to do.

“Where the fuck is Dumb Luck?” Alicia asked, pushing her hair back behind one ear in annoyance.

“We did get here half an hour early,” Kitty pointed out. “They’re probably not hanging out in the parking lot like they’re afraid they’ll get stood up if they’re late.”

“We’re all dressed up and ready to go,” Lyn-Z said. “This is too exciting to just sit around in the garage waiting to be fashionably late.”

Gerard just nodded. Now that he was here, he felt kind of queasy to the stomach, like tonight was going to end badly. He nervously played with the zippers on the sleeves of his leather jacket.

Lyn-Z hopped up on the hood of the car, kicking her feet against the tire. Gerard tried not to look at how her tattoo contrasted with the school uniform she was wearing. One that looked like it was left over from fifth grade, really, though she had added some pins and patches to her vest to make it more punk, less pedo-bait.

He leaned against the car beside Lyn-Z and was debating asking her flat out where things stood between them, but he looked over as another car pulled into the lot. It was a beat-up Suburban that Gerard was familiar with – too familiar with - and Gerard thought that his nausea was more premonition than nerves. Suddenly it occurred to him exactly why Dumb Luck had seemed familiar.

He was fairly certain that this wasn’t going to go smoothly.

“What?” Lyn-Z said, poking him in the side. 

Gerard wondered if he could maybe just hide in their van as Bert McCracken climbed out of the passenger seat, chirping happily at Quinn Allman.

“Nothing,” he said.

Lyn-Z looked over, and said, “ _Oh_.”

Gerard glanced back at her, slightly panicked. Alicia and Kitty trotted across the parking lot to greet the guys, so Gerard risked saying, “What do you mean by that?”

Lyn-Z shrugged. “Everyone knows, you know.”

Bert and Quinn were joined by Jepha Howard and Dan Whitesides, and Gerard felt like even more of an idiot for not realizing sooner who they were opening for. He’d been too wrapped up in his own drama to even give a second thought to what band Alicia would be able to wrangle an opening gig with.

“Everyone just knows what Bert announced through the intercom,” Gerard said. 

“Are you saying that wasn’t true?” Lyn-Z said.

Gerard felt like he was in a funhouse, the floor twisting beneath his feet. “That was… it was a long time ago,” he said, which wasn’t any sort of answer at all.

“You really were just fucking with me,” Lyn-Z said sadly.

“What? No!” Gerard said, turning to face her directly. “Lyn-Z, no, definitely not.”

She didn’t look like she believed a word he was saying. He guessed that he could see why. 

“It’s not your fault, I guess,” she said, mouth twisting wryly, “though I’m still going to blame you. Because you’re a bastard and all.”

“Lyn-Z,” Gerard said. “You have it so wrong.”

He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain himself, or even what about the Bert thing that made her so certain he was fucking with her, but then Kitty and Alicia returned, Jepha in tow. 

“The guys went to go get the keys from this place’s manager,” Kitty explained. “As soon as the bingo tables are put up we can set up.”

“Awesome,” Lyn-Z said curtly. Gerard stayed turned towards Lyn-Z, figuring it’d been a while since he’d spent time with Jepha. There was no way he’d recognize him. Bert was who he had to worry about.

Alicia raised an eyebrow at them. Jepha cheerfully said, “So you guys do country shit?”

“Dolly Parton covers,” Lyn-Z said, “punked up.” She looked like she was daring Jepha to say something disparaging about Dolly.

“That sounds most radical,” Jepha replied. “You need help setting up?”

“We got it,” Lyn-Z said, hopping down off the car at the same time Kitty said, “Sure!”

They looked at each other, and Gerard, between them, shifted awkwardly.

“How about I show you the setup?” Jepha told Kitty. “See you inside, Licia-lesh, Lyn-Z-aye, Gee-rard.”

Kitty blinked but followed Jepha, leaving Gerard standing there with Alicia, whose brow was furrowed and Lyn-Z, who still looked pissed.

“Did he just call you Gerard?” Alicia said after a moment.

“It was more a ‘Gee-rard,’” Gerard said. “Jepha likes nicknames.”

“I… Gerard _Way_?” Alicia demanded. 

There was no use denying it now.

“I told you I wasn’t interested in your boyfriend,” Gerard said. “And what the fuck, Alicia, you know Mikey wouldn’t _cheat_ on you.”

Alicia opened her mouth and shut it again. “Are you fucking serious,” she said, shaking her head.

Gerard shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea.” He looked at Lyn-Z. “It really hasn’t been though.”

“It _seemed_ like a good idea! It _seemed_!” Alicia yelled, raising her arms up in frustration, shaking her arms like she wanted to throttle Gerard. Lyn-Z was quiet. Alicia looked at Lyn-Z, then back at Gerard. “Did you know?” she demanded to Lyn-Z.

“Yeah,” Lyn-Z said quietly. She didn’t look at Gerard.

“You knew,” Alicia said. “You knew our lead singer in our girl punk band was a dude and you didn’t tell me. Did Kitty know too? What, have you all been laughing behind my back at me?”

Alicia’s reaction was a lot closer to what he’d been expecting from Lyn-Z than the reaction – or lack thereof – he’d actually gotten from Lyn-Z. 

“No one’s been laughing,” Lyn-Z said. “And no, Kitty doesn’t know. Well, unless she just figured it out.”

“Damn Jepha,” Gerard mumbled. “So are you going to kick me out or what?”

Alicia and Lyn-Z both looked confused. 

“Why would we kick you out?” Alicia said. “I didn’t even kick you out when I thought you were running around with my boyfriend.”

That hadn’t occurred to Gerard. “Um. Why?”

“You’re good,” Alicia shrugged. “I’m not going to let personal issues fuck with our music. But we are going to have to have one hell of a band meeting.” She tilted her head at Gerard. “Are you… I mean. You seem okay with your clothes.”

Gerard looked down at his skirt and tights. “Yeah,” he shrugged. Now that it was out in the open, sort of, it really didn’t seem like as big of a deal that he was in a skirt. 

Maybe it was the lying that got to him more than anything, because he wasn’t as embarrassed about his outfit as he thought he’d be after being outted. 

“But _why_?” Alicia said. Lyn-Z watchfully waited on his answer. 

Gerard looked back and forth between them and said, “I wanted… I was.. You know how Joan of Arc heard voices and should have thought she was crazy but realized she was hearing God? It was kind of like that, only my idea actually was crazy and even though it’s totally worth burning at the stake over I don’t know anymore what the mission is, you know?”

Alicia looked stumped. “So basically you’re as looney tunes as your momma.”

“My momma isn’t looney tunes,” Gerard replied automatically. 

Lyn-Z bit her lip. “Worth burning at the stake over?”

Alicia looked back and forth between them and said, “I’m gonna go see if Kitty needs help.”

She jogged across the parking lot, striped stockings looking strangely out of place in the daylight, leaving Gerard and Lyn-Z alone. Gerard kicked at a piece of loose pavement and said, “You’re really important to me.”

The words didn’t sound as impressive as the feeling they were describing. Gerard wished he could draw this instead, show the scene as a comic and embellish his words with heavy lines and tiny hearts and show exactly what he meant.

“Important like a friend or important like the entire universe is centered on me?” Lyn-Z replied.

“You’re my voice of God,” Gerard said. “I mean, playing in a punk band isn’t exactly a holy war, but…”

“You can always do aerobics on stage,” Lyn-Z said, “since you’re a cute, Jane Wiedlin sort of Joan.” She leaned against the car, looked down at her crossed arms. “I’m just… confused.”

“Me too,” Gerard confessed, “but not about you.”

Her lip quirked up wryly, but she didn’t look up at him. “Yeah, yeah.”

Gerard opened his mouth to ask what she meant by that, but his attention was drawn by Bert and Jepha skipping merrily across the parking lot towards him.

“Jepharee-mo-dee said this was something to see,” Bert proclaimed as they approached, hand in hand. 

“Oh god,” Gerard sighed.

“You devil,” Bert said, pinching his cheek. “Lookin’ devilish divine."

“Thanks,” Gerard said wryly. Lyn-Z said loudly, “Don’t you have set up to do?”

“That’s what Dan and Quinn are for,” Jepha said, raising an eyebrow at Lyn-Z, who didn’t look embarrassed at her outburst.

“I didn’t know we were going for a girl’s night theme,” Bert said. “I would have brought my dress.”

“I’m prettier, I should have,” Jepha said. He leaned in to explain. “Bert’s too hairy to pull off anything low-cut.”

“I’m got way more crazy patches of hair now than last time you saw me naked,” Bert said cheerfully. “Wanna see?”

Gerard resisted glancing at Lyn-Z before he said decisively, “No.”

“Your loss,” Bert shrugged. Gerard kind of wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Lyn-Z definitely did not need to know he’d seen Bert naked. The thought of her imagining the sorts of things he’d done with Bert made him wish he’d been a monk, because right now Lyn-Z looked like she never wanted to speak to him ever again.

Jepha noticed Gerard’s pained expression. “You’re okay with us, right? I mean, the past is past.”

Bert didn’t look very apologetic as he said, “I might have done some things in the heat of the moment that were maybe dickish, but you know how it is.”

Gerard wanted to say, “But I didn’t announce your favorite sexual positions over the intercom,” but he didn’t, because he didn’t want to play the victim anymore. He hadn’t screwed Bert over as publically as that, but everyone had known he’d screwed him over anyway, just from Bert’s reaction. 

“Bygones and all that,” he said, and Jepha grinned at him like he’d done the right thing, something he hadn’t seen since he’d made Bert happy forever ago. Bert bounced on the balls of his toes and threw his arms around Gerard’s neck and gave him a wet kiss on the cheek. Gerard hugged him back, scrunching his nose in a silly grin at Lyn-Z, and then Bert let him go, hunched down and peered up Gerard’s skirt.

“Hey!” Gerard yelped.

“I just wanted to see if you went all the way,” Bert said. “No lace, what the fuck?”

Gerard held his skirt down and said, “None of your business, Bert.”

“Panties are _always_ friends’ business,” Bert replied. He turned to Lyn-Z and Jepha. “Right?”

“I know I’m disappointed,” Lyn-Z said. Gerard stuck out his tongue at her.

“Me too, Gerard, what, you rocking the granny panties?” Jepha asked.

“No,” Gerard replied, feeling his cheeks go pink. “Just normal underwear.”

“Please tell me they’re not tightie whities,” Lyn-Z said, stepping forward and lifting the hem of his skirt, leaning over to take a look. Gerard tried to shield himself. “Come on!”

“Inappropriate!” he said.

“Are you always this prudish? Because if you’re not gonna put out prom night, I need to know now,” Lyn-Z said, obviously trying to hold back laughter.

Jepha let out a delighted giggle. “I’ll put out on prom night. I’ll even wear a pretty dress!”

“Dannyboy would be sad you stood him up, though,” Bert pointed out.

“Dammit,” Jepha said.

Lyn-Z laughed, but Gerard knew her well enough to know she was still troubled by something. He shifted, trying to figure out how to politely ask Bert and Jepha to get the hell out of there.

Lyn-Z resolved the debate by saying, “I know you’re wanting to sing Kumbaya and hold hands now that you’ve kissed and made up, but we,” she motioned to herself and Gerard, “need to have a conversation.” 

“Someone’s in the bitch-house!” Bert sing-songed, and grabbed Jepha by the arm. 

“Quinn is probably going to offer you a drink or something to eat,” Jepha said, walking backwards as Bert dragged him towards the building. “Do not, for the love of all that is good, accept it. You will not stop worshipping the porcelain god for days.”

“Duly noted,” Gerard called back, and was surprised at how much lighter he felt now that he’d forgiven Bert. He probably had just made life easier on Bob and the rest of the guys, if they didn’t have to walk on eggshells every time the guys came up.

“Lots of our favorite kids are coming out tonight,” Bert yelled cheerfully when they reached the door. “They’ll totally dig your chick band. Cunt-ry shit.”

Lyn-Z cheerfully flipped him off, and Bert ducked inside the building, grinning.

Gerard stood there for a second, a million things to say running through his head, but finally he blurted out, “Why are you confused?”

“Because you’re gay!” she said, waving her arms around like she was trying to explain nuclear physics to the village idiot. 

“I… _what_?” Gerard said. “You mean, _you’re_ gay?”

Lyn-Z shook her head and shoved a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “No, I mean, you and Frank.”

“Me and Frankie?” Gerard squeaked. Lyn-Z thought he was gay and dating his best friend. Gerard didn’t understand. He was all geared up for her to tell him she couldn’t handle the dick, literally, and instead she was telling him he was gay.

“You’re pretty obvious,” she said, “and then I saw you go down into Gabe Saporta’s basement with him and you’re always in each other’s space and it’s really fucking obvious, okay, everyone at school accepts it, and I’m so stupid, I didn’t even care that you’re obviously just fucking around with me.”

“I… Gabe’s basement?” Gerard wondered if this was what being speechless felt like.

“Everyone knows what goes on there,” Lyn-Z said.

That was true, except…

“Jamia went down with Frank. You know? Frank’s girlfriend?” Gerard said.

Lyn-Z blinked. “Frank Iero has a _girlfriend_? I always thought that was his sister or something.”

“Frank isn’t my boyfriend,” Gerard said. “He’s a boy and he’s my friend. I’ve had a massive, all-consuming crush on you since that day you added the _Zombies were people too_ pin to your bookbag.”

“That was _months_ ago,” Lyn-Z said. “You’ve never even talked to me.”

“You’re too scary!” Gerard said, then quickly backtracked. “Because you’re so confident and smart and awesome and I’ll never be as cool as you are, and I was afraid if I tried to talk to you all I would do was honk and then you’d never speak to me again, just call me that weird goose guy. I couldn’t stand the thought of being that weird goose guy to you.”

“You are a moron,” Lyn-Z said, smiling. “That still doesn’t explain the secret identity.”

“Because you’re into girls,” Gerard said, beginning to doubt the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

“I like… Wait, you decided to be a girl so that I would like you?” Lyn-Z asked.

“Frank and Mikey told me it was stupid but I just wanted to stand a chance, even if it was going to end badly,” Gerard said. 

Lyn-Z was giggling.

Gerard shifted his weight uncomfortably and smoothed down his skirt. Lyn-Z kept laughing, leaning back against the car.

“You goober,” she said, still giggling, and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m about as gay as you are.”

She leaned in and kissed him, pressing her body tight against his. His hands automatically went to her hips, and his thoughts were racing as he kissed her back. She arched her back and he didn’t pull away, holding her close and kissing her like she was the only person in the universe.

He backed her up to the car, and as they broke the kiss she laughed and tucked her head against his, hugging him as she said, “I’ve been watching you in art class since the beginning of the year. Steve’s been calling me your stalker.”

“What?” Gerard said. “I never noticed!”

“I never noticed you watching, either! That must be why Jimmy’s been making fun of me so much,” she said. She pulled back from the hug but didn’t release him from her arms. “I kind of started dating you… Gee… because you reminded me of you. Gerard.”

Gerard tried to process the thought, difficult as it was with her arms wrapped around him and her hips flush against his. “Did Superman ever get pissed that Clark Kent scored Lois?”

Lyn-Z crinkled her nose. “Can we switch to a Batman and Catwoman metaphor? Or maybe go back to Joan of Arc. I like being God, and you still get to look cute in that skirt.”

Gerard’s cheeks heated up. “I’m just saying this is me. And that you should be pissed at _me_ for lying.”

“We both lied,” Lyn-Z said pragmatically. “But I don’t want to anymore.”

“Me either,” Gerard said. He dipped his head down and kissed her again. Because he could do that, kiss her, and she knew who he was and still wanted to kiss him back.

It was the greatest feeling in the world, Gerard was pretty sure. If he could bottle this shit and sell it to supervillains on the black market, there would be no more near-apocalypses ever. “You really could stop apocalypses,” he told her.

“Good to know,” she replied, grinning wide and un-self-consciously.

“So you and Kitty _weren’t_ together?” Gerard asked, just to clarify.

“She’s just a friend,” Lyn-Z said, “and not the Biz Markie kind either.”

Gerard would be happy to stay here smooshed up against Lyn-Z forever.

“So you just joined the band over me?” Lyn-Z asked. “Since we’re clarifying and all.”

“Yeah,” Gerard said sheepishly. “But it turns out it’s really fun.”

“We’re gonna kick ass in there tonight,” Lyn-Z said. “I’m sure of it.”

Gerard decided that future ass-kicking was definitely a kiss-worthy event.

*

They stayed outside making out against the car until Lyn-Z pulled away and said, “Fuck, people are here!”

Gerard wondered briefly if he was going to become a secret closeted-away boyfriend she sometimes took on dates in other cities before realizing that the presence of people meant the show was getting closer. They jogged back to the building hand-in-hand. Gerard seemed incapable of letting her go.

Alicia looked like she was going to murder them as she shoved them towards their instruments. The happy haze he’d been in dissipated as the cold reality of performing for a jaded crowd of kids hit him. The crowd wasn’t massive, and even in the small room looked sparse, but suddenly Gerard realized that he was going to walk in front of them and command their attention and perform.

It was terrifying.

Once he stepped up onto the stage – short step though that might be – Gerard looked out at the crowd, and instead of seeing a motley collection of bored kids, friendly faces and people he was terrified of, something kind of strange happened. His heart was pounding and he felt nauseous, but a calm settled on him as the crowd coalesced into an audience instead of a bunch of people judging him individually, and even though it wasn’t that many kids, he knew he had to put on a good show.

There was a burst of cheering from the crowd, and Gerard knew where to look to see all his friends. Frank had found a chair to stand on and was bouncing up and down on it, while Mikey next to him was grinning, having resurfaced from wherever he’d been hiding all afternoon. Dewees was waving his arms as Ray tugged at his shirt, laughing into his shoulder over something, and Bob was surreptitiously checking out the sound board and shaking his head disapprovingly.

Chantal let out a piercing whistle, and Jimmy waved a sign that read, “Kisses: One Dollar.” 

Gerard straightened his guitar and glanced at the band. Kitty was impatiently toying with her drumsticks while Lyn-Z tightened one of her pigtails, and Alicia stared out at the crowd with a determined look. 

He wrapped both hands around the mic and announced, voice not wavering or cracking a bit, despite the terrified fantasies he’d harbored in the shower that morning, “We’re the Hell Dollys and we’re here to kick some ass!” 

Gerard took a deep breath as Kitty hit her bass drum and they kicked off into the Sex Pistols-inspired version of “The Bridge” they’d worked on the day before specifically as a way to make sure the kids knew that this wasn’t any yokel band.

Gerard, when he paused in his own singing and dancing and strumming ineffectively at his guitar long enough to observe the audience, was thrilled to notice a few kids were even bobbing their heads along.

Alicia tossed her hair and grinned at him before resuming her ‘fuck the world’ smirk for the audience. 

Gerard felt elated; he hadn’t expected playing to be this much _fun_. The segues between songs were awkward, but they muddled through and the audience seemed to warm up to them as the show progressed.

Lyn-Z, as planned, did her backbend during the bridge of “Why’d You Come In Here Lookin’ Like That.” She didn’t arch as far as Gerard had seen her do in practice – nerves, he supposed – but her acrobatic feat was more than enough to wow the audience, judging from the cheers and jeers that resulted.

He tripped over his patch cord and went tumbling into Lyn-Z, falling to the ground in an ungainly heap and hoping his skirt wasn’t flipped up too high as he tried to struggle into a sitting position, guitar slung to the side. His legs ended up sprawled open and he kept yelling the words to “Me and Little Andy.”

Lyn-Z stopped playing completely as she straddled one of his legs, swinging her bass around to pluck at the strings as she made faces down at Gerard, her thigh blocking any up-skirt view the audience might have and giving Gerard more confidence to push himself into a sitting position and, in a break between lines, peck Lyn-Z on the lips.

He heard a few “Whooo!”s from the audience and Lyn-Z grinned at him, standing up and strutting to her part of the stage while Gerard managed to get to his feet, guitar strap and cord twisted uncomfortably around him as they launched into their final song, “Jolene.”

Gerard threw himself into the lyrics, pouring everything he had into them, and a few times couldn’t help but look over to Lyn-Z, who halfway through the song came over and leaned her forehead against his, grinning at him close before dancing away to her side of stage again.

He finished the song and there was a quiet moment as the guitars faded away, the sound ringing in his ears, that he realized that he’d kissed Lyn-Z in front of a room full of kids, that he’d sang and danced in front of strangers and his friends, and that he had no clue if it had looked as awesome as the experience had felt.

He smiled nervously, curtseying for the audience as he yelled, “Thank you!” 

There was cheering, and some sharp loud whistles he thought came from Jimmy and Chantal and maybe even Frank, and he was grinning wide enough that his cheeks hurt as he reluctantly left the stage.

Standing side-stage together as the lights dimmed, Kitty insisted on a group hug. “We are so fucking awesome!” she exclaimed.

“Hell to the motherfucking yeah!” Alicia replied.

After they cleared their gear out of the way they skedaddled so that Dumb Luck could launch into their set. Quinn brushed by him without glancing at him, but Bert pinched his ass and gave the audience a thumbs-up. The audience gave a small cheer, and, pink-cheeked and buoyant, Gerard followed his band outside.

Steven Smith stopped him just before he got to the door, excitedly saying, “Hi, remember me, that was fucking _amazing_! Seriously superb.”

“Thanks,” Gerard said. His face was probably going to be sore tomorrow from all the grinning he was doing tonight. He ducked out the door, leaving Steven calling after him, “I’m going to give you an awesome write-up in the paper! And on my blog!”

“We have a fan,” Kitty said happily once the door clanged shut and they clustered beside the building. Night had fallen while they performed and there was a definite chill in the air, so they huddled together, sweat cooling rapidly in the breeze.

“Correction, _Gee_ has a fan,” Alicia said. “Lyn-Z, hon, you’d best watch out. You’ve got competition.”

“No she doesn’t,” Gerard said, taking her hand and nudging her with his hip, smiling at her.

Lyn-Z pecked him on the tip of the nose. “Wonder if he’d fanboy you as hard if he knew what a loser you are.”

“Oh, geez, are you two going go to all googly-eyed on us all the time now?” Kitty complained. “I can only handle so much lovey-dovey mushyface.”

“Hey Kitty, you want to hear a funny story?” Lyn-Z said. Gerard debated hiding his head in her shoulder and decided to try to man it out. “Someone was jealous of our love.”

“It is so pure and true,” Kitty said, nodding. Alicia started to giggle. Kitty continued, “Hey, does this mean we can talk about how our lead singer is a dude in a skirt?”

“Am I seriously the only one who didn’t know?” Alicia demanded. “You all fail for leaving me in the dark.”

“Kitty hasn’t known long,” Lyn-Z said, sticking out her tongue. “Because she got really pissed at me for.. what was it, Kitty?”

“What I got pissed at her for,” Kitty explained, “was taking advantage of this chick because she reminded her of the jackass who never so much as talked to her.”

Gerard did hide his face in Lyn-Z’s shoulder after all.

“It turns out we’re both terrible people, though, so that worked out,” Lyn-Z offered. She wrapped an arm around Gerard’s shoulders and effectively removed any incentive he might have to remove his head from her shoulder, so he wrapped his right arm around her waist and tilted his head enough to see Alicia and Kitty. They were both practically bubbling over with suppressed giggles.

“Terrible, shmerrible,” Kitty said.

“You two are as evil as a basket of sleeping kittens,” Alicia agreed. “Look at you!”

“We look like doers of terrible deeds,” Lyn-Z said, affronted. Gerard made an agreeable, happy sound.

“You two are going to be insufferable,” Alicia declared. “Try not to write love notes to each other mid-set, okay?”

“You can keep it saucy, though,” Kitty said. “I think the hot girl-on-girl will really help sell us.”

Lyn-Z raised an eyebrow. “Is that what we want our band to be?”

“Secretly subversive?” Kitty suggested. “With a surprise ace in the hole?”

Lyn-Z laughed. “We’re keeping Gerard under wraps, then?”

“Just for as long as it’s entertaining,” Alicia said. “Assuming you’re down with that, Gee?”

“Fine by me,” Gerard said. “That was really fun.”

Lyn-Z kissed the top of his head. “Your reputation will be fucked, of course, whenever people eventually connect the dots.”

“I hate to tell you this,” Gerard said, “but I don’t exactly have the best reputation to begin with. I don’t think being in a band kissing a hot girl, whether or not I’m in a skirt, is really going to hurt it any.”

“That’s my girl,” Lyn-Z beamed down at him. “Fuck the haters!”

*

They slipped back inside and joined their group of friends. Steve was heckling the band and Bob was heckling Steve.

Frank bounced on his toes and gave Gerard a hug, declaring, “New favorite band, seriously, you were sassy as hell up there.”

Maybe Gerard could understand where Lyn-Z’s confusion about the nature of his relationship with Frank had come from. _Maybe_.

Dumb Luck’s set went great – Gerard was totally going to pick Bert’s brain about how he managed to keep the kids so into it – and when Mikey suggested they all go out for root beer floats, everyone jumped on the idea.

Gerard was reluctant to leave the crowd behind, even though it was clearly rapidly dispersing as Dumb Luck packed up their gear after Bert’s fairly disastrous attempt at stage diving.

Gerard was glad the fanciest move he’d been up to attempting had involved Lyn-Z. His dignity, at least, was mostly intact, though Bert hadn’t seemed bothered by his faceplant, but had popped up off the ground, grinning and licking at the blood leaking from his nose.

The bands hung around for a little while longer after their friends headed on to The Max for floats, attending to last-minute details before heading out to their cars. 

Gerard was kind of grateful that he wasn’t keeping his gender secret from his band anymore, especially since he was too exhausted to really fret about all the consequences that he normally would be imagining and exaggerating to the point of tar-and-feathering. 

He rested his head on Lyn-Z’s shoulder, which was beginning to feel like his new favorite place to be, and joined in on the chatter as they drove to The Max. Gerard was supremely unsurprised when Alicia and Kitty both decided that the most important thing to joke about was located under his skirt.

Gerard quickly began to appreciate how circumspect his own friends had been. His cheeks were red by the time Lyn-Z started adding her own thoughts on the state of his tights, and he actually hid his face in his hands when Kitty offered to take him on a shopping trip to get some pretty unmentionables for _his_ unmentionables.

“Our show went really well,” Gerard said loudly, hoping to cut off the teasing.

“It would have gone better if you’d remember to play while you sing,” Alicia offered from the driver’s seat.

Gerard stuck out his tongue at her. “You did manage to let my brother know about how you’re a moron, right?”

“None of your beeswax,” Alicia said, making a face at him in the rearview mirror.

“Come on, Alicia, we must know the intimate details of your sex life,” Kitty said. “Imagine how uncomfortable that’d make our lovely songstress!”

“I dunno, those Ways are pretty weird,” Lyn-Z teased, poking Gerard in the side.

“Am not,” Gerard mumbled, picking at a run in his tights. He did kind of want Alicia to share, because then he wouldn’t have to unmuddle whatever Mikey would say, which would undoubtedly reference four conflicting cancelled tv shows. He’d figure it out, of course, because he understood the way Mikey’s brain worked (well, most of the time) but Alicia’s directness was welcomed after a long day.

“And I did go find Mikey while you two were canoodling in the parking lot,” Alicia said loftily. “We discussed our issues like mature, responsible…”

“You smacked him upside the head and told him to tell you next time you were being an idiot and believing he would sleep with another girl who was secretly his brother, didn’t you?” Kitty interrupted.

Alicia pursed her lips and looked at the road with great concentration. Lyn-Z’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

When they pulled up to the diner, Frank stood up on his seat and waved them over to the corner, where they smooshed into booths with everyone who had already arrived. 

“We got your floats,” Bob called from two booths over from where Gerard slid in next to Lyn-Z, unwilling to let her get too far away lest she realize that she could probably do better than him, what with all the admirers she’d won during the gig. Jepha saluted them with his own sundae, then tried to feed Bob his cherry. Bert and Quinn were snuggled together across from him, and when Dan loudly dragged a chair across the linoleum to join them he ruffled Lyn-Z’s hair, grinning, “Awesome show.”

Gerard sipped at his root beer float and tried to not tease Mikey and Alicia, who ended up sharing a booth with him and Lyn-Z. Lyn-Z was not nearly as circumspect, and kept kicking Mikey under the table and saying, “Stop checking out my honey.”

Kitty joined Ray, Dewees, Frank, and Jamia, who were attempting to build something out of straws. 

“We’re going to draw Boozey on the ceiling,” Gerard heard Dewees explain. “We just have to build a pen long enough.”

“Come on you guys,” Jamia sighed. “Stop that. You know you’re going to need something better than gum to hold those straws together. There’s some tape in the car.”

“We’ll go get it,” Dewees said, grabbing Ray by the arm.

“Yeah,” Ray agreed. “Don’t wait, it might be hard to find.”

“Something might be hard, that’s for sure,” Frank mumbled, glaring at his half-finished straw contraption. “Fuck, Jamia, now we’re not going to see them for half an hour.”

“Fifteen minutes tops,” Jamia said.

Kitty snorted. Frank leaned over Jamia’s lap to hiss at Gerard’s table, “Hey, Gerard, help me draw Boozey on the ceiling.”

Gerard looked up at the ceiling. It was really high up, and he was pretty sure they banned you from the place for shit like that. He really liked their floats, so he shook his head. “I’m enjoying my float.”

Lyn-Z looked at the straw contraption. “There’s no way that’ll hold a pen up.”

“Well excuse me,” Frank said, sticking his tongue out at her. 

Lyn-Z looked around. “What you need to do is climb up onto the counter,” she said, “and stack a few booster seats up. Then you could reach.” She paused. “Or, I could reach.”

Frank flipped her off, then looked measuringly at the counter and booster seats.

Kitty said, “No, Lyn-Z, that’s why you can’t go back to the Cheesecake Factory.”

Lyn-Z stuck her tongue out, and Frank said, “But it’s for posterity! Every time we saw that graffiti, we would remember this night.”

“We can graffiti elsewhere,” Lyn-Z offered, “if that’ll make Kitty not give me the lecture-face.”

“Don’t make me out to be the fuddy-duddy,” Kitty said, sticking out her tongue. “I have saved you from many an arson charge.”

“Oh god,” Jamia sighed. “Frank, no playing with fire.”

Frank made a ‘call me’ gesture to Lyn-Z, and Gerard felt a sinking feeling, like he was going to be spending a lot of time playing lookout while Frank and Lyn-Z did potentially arrest-worthy things.

Jimmy and Chantal came bursting out of the bathroom, giggling loudly as Chantal made a vain attempt to smooth her hair at least mostly underneath her headband. They squeezed in next to Kitty, who said, “Subtlety left you at the bus stop.”

Chantal grinned. “Hey now, what me and James decide to do in the privacy of a public bathroom is no one’s business but ours.”

“And the surveillance camera’s,” Frank added.

“Ooh, think we could steal that tape?” Jimmy wondered, looking around excitedly.

Lyn-Z rolled her eyes and said, “The camera probably committed harakiri when it registered what was going on.”

“That’s Lyn-Z speak for ‘you have a nice ass,’” Jimmy clarified for the group at large.

Ray and Dewees wandered back in, no tape in sight, and Jamia and Frank both looked at the time and raised eyebrows at the two. Ray turned pink and Dewees ignored them in favor of turning to Alicia and Mikey and saying, “Hey, um, your boytoy was in the parking lot.”

As if on cue, Pete entered The Max.

Pete approached the booth, hands stuck in his hoodie pocket. Mikey and Alicia fell abruptly silent, and Pete shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, looking like a nervous kid about to give a report in front of the whole school.

Gerard wasn’t alone in this assessment, apparently. As Pete’s silence stretched out, Dewees offered from the next booth over, “San Dimas High School football rules!” 

Pete ducked his head and said, “I _could_ use a time machine. But I have something to say.”

“Uh-huh,” Alicia said, taking a sip of her root beer float. Mikey elbowed her, and Alicia said, “What?”

“I’m sure Pete has something very apologetic and awesome to say,” Mikey said.

“I’m sorry I was a difficult bitch,” Pete said, as if he were reciting from memory. “Mikey is the coolest cat in the universe, and Alicia is the human personification of awesome. You rule, I drool.”

Mikey looked pleased. Alicia looked back and forth between them and said to Mikey, “You totally left me out of the loop again, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want to get you all distracted before your show,” Mikey said. 

“And besides I came up with a romantic gesture of my own!” Pete said. “Way better than a speech!”

He took a step back, and pulled his hands out of his hoodie pocket and held a kitten above his head. The kitten looked bewildered. Pete looked up and hissed, “Purr, dammit! You’re ruining my moment.”

Mikey chewed on the end of his straw. Alicia stood up and took the kitten from Pete. “You can’t brandish kittens about! What are you thinking?”

“It’s ours!” Pete said. “It just wouldn’t participate in my _Say Anything_ moment like I told it to in the car.”

“What do you mean, ours?” Alicia said, petting the kitten under its chin.

“I thought we could share her. You know. If we’re all three her parents, it’s like, a bond between us,” Pete said. “A tangible expression of our love! That has nine lives, so we can always land on our feet when we fuck up.”

Gerard squeezed Lyn-Z’s hand under the table and tried not to laugh. Lyn-Z wasn’t succeeding, and she tucked her face into his shoulder.

Alicia sat down and set the kitten on the table, cooing at it. Pete slid in the booth after her, squishing up against her and saying, “Mikey explained things.” He waved his hand towards Gerard.

“Gee is awful pretty,” Lyn-Z said, head still leaning against his shoulder. “I can understand why you’d be jealous of her.”

“And I got over things,” Pete said, motioning towards Mikey. “And I’m hoping we could give this another shot. A less messy shot.”

“Messy is fun sometimes,” Alicia said, winking. She made a kissy face towards the kitten, then leaned back so she could see both Mikey and Pete. “Are we all going to actually talk this time? Instead of sneaking around and angsting?”

“Teen dramas taught me all I know,” Mikey said. “But I’m actually getting a little sick of Morrissey, so yeah.”

“It’s possible to get sick of Morrissey?” Pete asked. “Blasphemy.”

They grinned at each other, and Gerard begrudgingly thought that Mikey might have found a boy worth his time. 

“Today turned out to be a fun and profitable day,” Lyn-Z observed.

“Speak for yourself, I only made fifty cents,” Jimmy said, disappointed. “And that was from my schnookums.”

“That fifty cents was payment to throw that sign away,” Chantal said. “No whoring yourself out when you’ve got me.”

Jimmy grinned and gave her an Eskimo kiss. “But baby, without my hooking money I won’t be able to afford nice dinners.”

“We can dine and dash,” Chantal offered. “Put a little thrill in our meal.”

“I’ve got the best girlfriend,” Jimmy announced grandly to the room. “Everyone else can suck it.”

Gerard leaned in and whispered to Lyn-Z, “He’s totally wrong, you know.”

“I know,” she replied, reaching down and playing with the hem of his skirt, fingertips skating against his thigh. “I’ve _definitely_ got the best girlfriend.”

 

The End


End file.
